


Turning the Tide

by Lady_Brisarys



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Braime - Fandom, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A bit of light reading, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Braime - Freeform, Complicated Relationships, Drama & Romance, F/M, Jealousy, Modern Westeros, Multi, Raining cats and dogs, That's enough spoilers for now, more tags will follow, not so angsty this time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Brisarys/pseuds/Lady_Brisarys
Summary: After a miserable year with an unexpected breakup followed by the tragic event of her father's untimely death, Brienne finds herself longing for change. Heading down an exciting, but tricky new career path, she decides to move back into the old Victorian house where she spent her teenage years. Turns out she's not the only new kid on the block. Change is what she wanted, and change is what's coming.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 69
Kudos: 104





	1. New beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Want to stay up to date and participate in the story? Follow me on instagram.com/lady_brisarys!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's supported me so far and a special thanks to my friend Gabi for inspiring me to write this.

Brienne slouched down on the old sofa with a sigh and the plastic cover crinkled and crunched under her weight. The room was dark, dusty and sad. Outside, blackbirds routinely announced the coming dusk. After a few minutes in the dark, Brienne rose to turn on the lights, but when she flicked the light switch by the door, nothing happened. She tried another one, but the veil of darkness was persistent and would not be lifted.  
  
There was an ancient maple tree outside the window, and it selfishly kept all the sunlight to itself, leaving this side of the house in the shade. Of course the relative darkness had its perks in the heat of summer, but now Brienne felt it made the entire house feel depressed. She looked around the empty room. Maybe it was depressed, missing its owner. Perhaps what little light came through the windows couldn’t reach past months of accumulated dust.  
  
There was a lot that needed to be done in the abandoned house, but most of it could wait. As long as she had electricity and running water, she’d be fine. And she would get that sorted in the morning. The floor was in no great shape, but to get it fixed would be quite the expense. She’d find away around that.  
  
Brienne took a green notebook from her bag and walked around the house, touching the walls, inspecting the ceiling. The kitchen was all right now that she had her own refrigerator in there. It was strange to see her father hadn’t changed a thing through the years. It was still the same kitchen as when she had moved out. It felt like someone had taken a photograph of it and she just stepped inside the picture. The white walls weren’t exactly white anymore, so she would have to repaint them.  
  
Sadly the dishwasher hadn’t been working for well over two years and her father never bothered getting it fixed or replaced. Brienne wrote it down on the list and put an exclamation mark in front of it.  
  
“Definitely a priority,” she mumbled to herself.  
  
The door to the overgrown garden was stuck and when she tried to kick it open, the handle came off. “Great.” She put the broken handle on the kitchen counter and walked back into the living room. At least the walls were okay. And she was quite excited about getting to build a fire in the old fireplace again.  
  
In truth, she never expected to move back to the south. Tarth, maybe, but not the south of mainland Westeros. She liked the north. She liked the cold, the dreariness, the distant people. But sometimes a curveball is thrown your way and you can either catch it, avoid it or let it hit you in the head. Brienne chose the former when her father suddenly passed away during his travels around the world.  
  
She’d been tossing and turning in bed every night, pondering, worrying, weighing her options. What would she do with that old house? Sell it? Move in? Rent it out? Maybe this could be the change she’d been waiting for. The change she needed in her life. This could be _it_.  
  
She’d been stuck in a downward spiral for a while now – going through an unexpected breakup, working in an office she hated, with people she loathed, doing a job she detested.  
  
Maybe this was just the gods at work, telling her: _this is it_.  
  
There was a beautiful room in the back of the house. The walls had completely disappeared behind floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Most of the books in her father's collection were so old that she could barely decipher the titles.  
  
The room looked out over the once amazing landscaped garden, with tall three-over-one and colonial windows. Although, upon closer inspection, the frame could do with a little paint. Brienne slid her hand over the wood and followed the frame up to the ceiling with her eyes.  
  
“Oh fuck,” she said. “ _That_ mess.” She remembered her father casually mentioning there had been a problem with the plumbing, resulting in quite a severe leaking ceiling. He got the leakage fixed eventually, but of course her father never bothered repainting the ceiling.  
  
The lantern that stood near the green pond in the garden hugged the tree outside the window and drew shadows of its long arms on the scaly, flaky and bubbly ceiling. Brienne turned around, staring up. The mould and the years had turned the white ceiling into a dark grey mess. In this light it almost looked like an abstract painting by a severly depressed artist.  
  
She squinted her eyes and turned around again, the lines started to blur together and created waves. Then she stopped moving and nodded with a pleased smile on her face.  
  
“I can work with that,” she said.  
  
When Brienne walked to her car a little later, she noticed the that the _for sale_ sign on the neighbour’s lawn, had been covered with a bright red sticker that read _SOLD_. How could she have missed that earlier? She wasn't sure wether to be scared or excited about this.  
  
The drive to the supermarket was a lot shorter than she remembered. She blinked against the garish supermarket lights when she entered through the sliding doors. As she pushed the shopping cart slowly down the aisles, her feet dragging on the shiny concrete floor, she looked around at the people. They really were so different here. So… _southern_. Loud, social, present, happy. And so very awake _all_ the time. Not at all like herself.  
  
Brienne loaded up the cart with unhealthy foods and a variety of Dornish wines and drove home where she dropped the bag on the counter without unpacking and then used the torched light on her phone to find her way up the stairs. It was now completely dark, and so she decided to leave the curtains open. The moon was pale and the street lights seemed rather tired, but together at least they illuminated the house well enough for Brienne not to break her neck over a random piece of furniture, a moving box or a bag of dirty clothes.  
  
Although she had meant to move into her father’s old room, it just didn’t feel right when she sat down on her bed and looked around, and so she hauled the mattress off the bed and pushed it on its side down the hall to her old room. The room was just as she had left it, some 16 years ago. The same old rug on the wooden floor, the same single bed and the same worn down desk, covered in stains of colourful paint and ink.  
  
Brienne dropped the mattress on the floor in the middle of the room and let herself fall down onto it. She giggled like a child as the springs responded to her weight by bouncing her right off it. When she settled under the thin blanket – she’d forgotten where she put the duvet – she was overwhelmed by the silence surrounding her. The house was almost quiet enough to hear the dust settle.  
  
She missed Aerys. When was the last time she had spent more than a day without him? She could not recall. Brienne sighed and turned to face the window. The sky was incredibly bright tonight and maybe she was imagining things, but she would have sworn she saw a shooting star. A strange feeling settled over her. The peace of closure swirled together with the excitement of a new life and her heart fluttered inside her chest.  
  
 _Maybe this could really be it_ , she thought. _Maybe tomorrow could be the day that everything changes_.  
  
And change, it did. Some changes are sudden, unexpected. They shake you to the core and leave your world upside down. Like being left for another, or the sudden death of a loved one. Other changes are quiet and treacherous. They steal into your life, creeping up on you like a lioness on the prowl. They crawl into your bed with the promise of warmth, arms slowly gripping tighter. Before you know it, you turn around and everything is different.  
  
Brienne felt like she had only just closed her eyes for the night, when the peace of the world was rudely disturbed by a truck reversing into the driveway. The back-up alarm was so obnoxious and loud, the screeching beeps of the vehicle reached all the way through to her very bones. Brienne growled and pulled her pillow from under her head to cover her ears.  
  
 _What the hell is going on? It’s like 7 am on a Saturday, calm the fuck down!_ All the effort in the world couldn't make her get out of bed in a graceful fashion. She clumsily got to her feet, moaning and groaning, and stumbled over to the window only to realise the truck wasn’t in _her_ driveway, but the neighbours’.  
  
A chilly breeze sent in the crisp morning air through the open window and she shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms. Her attention was drawn to another truck with some odd heavy equipment loaded on its trailer. Brienne saw old mister Pycell had just conveniently decided to go and water the roses in his dressing gown and slippers. He stood curiously staring down the lawn at the working men, holding an empty watering can out over the flowers.  
  
Brienne followed his gaze back to the men who were happily exchanging nonsense in their white helmets and bright orange vests. How people could be so active, so early, was beyond her. One of the men looked up as if he had heard her thoughts and their sudden eye contact startled her. He waved at her and in response she slowly raised her hand, smiling painfully.  
  
“Morning, Miss!” he called up to her. Brienne quickly turned away from the window and hurried back to the mattress on the floor. She had only been by the window for a minute or two, but her feet were cold and she sighed when she realised the bed was still warm.  
  
When she grabbed her phone she saw that she had a couple of messages. Some were from Margaery, who was very, _very_ excited that Brienne was moving back south. Most of them were from Sansa, sending photos of Aerys and asking - “I don’t mean to be pushy but do you have an ETA?” - when she would be picking him up. Brienne shook her head as she scrolled through the messages and replied that she would be there around noon. Margaery would have to get by with a crying-with-laughter emoji, for now.  
  
Brienne hugged herself and sighed again. What she would give to have a nice, long, warm shower. After carrying all those boxes from the van to the house and up the stairs, she felt rather stinky and gross. Maybe she should have stayed one more night at the hotel? She looked down at her legs and noticed a good few bruises on her pale skin. Only now did she realise just how sore she was. Honestly, she felt like a 90-year-old man. And she could really use a cup of coffee. The noise coming from her neighbours’ house gave her a headache. But without water or electricity, a warm cup of coffee was not in the cards and it was too early to go the local coffee shop.  
  
 _Might as well get going then_ , she thought as she got dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a semi-clean shirt from her bag. When she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she gasped quietly.  
  
“Sweet Mother,” she said, turning her face to the side. “I even _look_ like a 90-old-man. One that was just in a fight. And _lost_.” There was a bruise the size of the Dothraki sea above her right eye from where one of the movers had hit her in the head with part of the bed frame of all things. Brienne flinched when she touched it.  
  
“Oh, you _are_ a beauty,” she told herself. “I honestly don’t know how you’re single. He was a stupid piece of shit to let you go.” She gave herself two extremely exaggerated thumbs up accompanied by the worst fake smile in the history of fake smiles, and then sighed with a growl. “ _Idiot_.”  
  
After going over yesterday’s list whilst eating a mushy and rather tasteless apple, Brienne locked the door behind her and walked down the wooden steps to her car. Something inside her shoe was bugging her, so she leaned against the ancient bannister to take it off. Not a good idea.  
  
She might just as well have been an elephant on a rocking horse, because the wood creaked and squeaked and complained against her weight before it snapped in two and Brienne landed in the bushes with a loud cry. She tried to remove herself from the embarrassment of the situation, but her leg was stuck between the branches, making it impossible to get up by herself. One of the construction workers hurried over and pulled her to her feet.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching his hand out to her. It was the same guy who'd waved at her, earlier.  
  
“I… I think so, thank you.”  
  
Behind him, the others were watching the show. Some seemed rather unimpressed, judging by their expressionless faces and empty stares, while others were clearly trying not to piss themselves laughing. The man gave them an angry scowl and yelled something in a foreign language. As soon as he turned back to her, his hard expression melted away into kindness. His smile was warm and bright.  
  
“I can fix it for you,” he said, pointing at the broken banister.  
  
“Oh that’s quite all right. I can do it myself.” He raised one eyebrow and looked her up and down.  
  
“Okay,” he said, as he reached over the bushes for the shoe she'd lost on the stairs.   
  
Brienne took the shoe from him and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, thanks again. Have a good day.” She made sure not to look around at him on her way to her car.  
  
 _What a promising start to a great day_.  
  
The drive up north was long and uneventful. The highlight of her journey was a pit stop at a petrol station to get some coffee and stretch her sore legs. People gave her funny looks because of the bruise on her head. Or at least, she hoped that _that_ was the reason.  
  
The air seemed different up north. More fresh, crisp, clean.  
  
She’d been driving for well over three hours when she parked her car behind Sansa’s in the driveway and walked up to the house. Even before she could knock, the door swung open.  
  
“You’re here!” Sansa exclaimed happily. “And early!”  
  
“Where is he?” Brienne replied. Her friend gave her an insulted look but moved aside to let her in.  
  
“Who knows. He’s been sulking about for three days straight. It’s exhausting to be around. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s outside digging his grave as we speak.”  
  
“Don’t be dramatic,” Brienne said as she walked through the house. “How is he? Has he been eating?”  
  
Sansa shrugged behind her. “So-so,” she replied. “He really has been sulking. I didn’t know they did that.”  
  
“Oh they do,” Brienne confirmed. “I know _he_ does. He’s just not used to being away from me.” Brienne pushed the back door open and walked into the garden.  
  
“Aerys!” she called. She heard him long before before she saw him. His heavy paws came pounding down on the grass and he barked in excitement. The barking soon turned into whining as came flying towards her. “Oh gods,” Brienne said, bracing herself for his enthusiasm.  
  
Aerys was the size of a small polar bear, and he looked like one too, with his fluffy double coat as white and soft as the clouds in the sky. When standing on his hind legs, he was almost tall enough to put his paws on Brienne’s shoulders. She laughed as the dog tried to lick her face, whimpering quietly.  
  
“Yes, I’ve missed you too.” She ran her fingers through his thick coat and pressed a kiss on his soft head. He looked up at her with hopeful brown eyes and it seemed as though he was saying, _P_ _lease don’t ever leave me again._ _It’s been hell without you_. Brienne smiled at him and gave him another kiss. Then she pushed his heavy paws off her.  
  
“Sweet Mother, I forget how big you are,” she said. Sansa huffed in the doorway behind her.  
  
“I don’t. I swear to the gods that dog makes my house feel half its actual size. And the _hair_! Forget spring, we’re in the middle of winter!” Brienne rolled her eyes at her.  
  
“So he sheds a little, so what?”  
  
“A _little_?!” They both laughed as they walked back inside.  
  
Aerys slept on the ground next to Brienne’s chair, snoring softly and contently as Sansa and Brienne drank their coffee.  
  
“I’m going to miss you, you know,” Sansa said over the edge of her mug. Brienne nodded.  
  
“Me too. But it’s only King’s Landing, not the end of the world. You can visit me whenever.” Sansa raised her eyebrows. “Fine. Not whenever. But sometimes.” They both chuckled.  
  
“I’ve been meaning to ask… Have you heard from him?” Brienne clenched her jaw and then sighed. She knew perfectly well who Sansa was referring to.  
  
“Nope. Not a whisper, not a sound. It’s like he disappeared or never even existed.”  
  
Sansa scoffed and said, “I wish,” but Brienne shook her head.  
  
“Nah… It was good when it was good, I suppose.”  
  
“Was it really though? Still. You didn’t deserve any of this. To be left for a…”   
  
“A what?” Brienne asked.  
  
Sansa shrugged. “A wildling hoe from the snow that’s half his age? A snow-hoe, perhaps? A baby one.”  
  
Brienne laughed. “A snow-hoe,” she repeated. “I like that.”  
  
“Me too.” They clanked their mugs together and Sansa added, “Here’s to snow-hoes. May their under-developed tits freeze off in the cold.”  
  
Brienne almost choked on her coffee. “ _Fuck_ ,” she exclaimed in between coughs. Sansa observed her with a sad smile on her face.  
  
Once Brienne had fully recovered from almost choking to death while her friend just sat and watched, not lifting a finger, Sansa said, “You’ve really had an awful year, haven’t you? And now you’re in this old house by yourself… Are you sure this is the right decision and not a spur-of-the-moment thing? You don’t even like the south.”  
  
Brienne smiled and put her mug down. “It really _was_ an awful year. But you know what… I feel like the tide is turning. I don’t know why. I wasn’t sure at first. And to be honest with you, the house is in a worse state that I thought – it is quite literally falling apart – but yesterday I was looking out the window and for the first time in a long time, I felt okay. Genuinely okay. A change of environment will be good for me. And I can always come back if I hate it. You act like it’s a bloody life sentence.”  
  
“That’s because I feel like it _is_ ,” Sansa explained. “Something tells me you’re never coming back.”  
  
Brienne scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll come back.”  
  
There was a strange darkness in Sansa’s eyes. “We’ll see,” she said quietly.  
  
When they finished their coffee, Sansa showed Brienne the way to her art supplies.  
  
“Thank you for letting me store my things in your shed,” Brienne said, stepping over a box of spray paint. “I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”  
  
Sansa waved at her dismissively. “Of course not. Theon doesn’t mind.”  
  
As she climbed over an old bicycle and a couple of stacked chairs to reach her favourite easel, Brienne asked, “How is he, anyway?”  
  
“Oh he’s good. He’s away with that Stark boy again.”  
  
“You mean Robb?”  
  
“Yeah… Honestly, he spends more time him than he does with me.” Brienne reached for a large box filled with sketch books, crayons and empty jars. The glass jars jingled and chimed as she balanced the box above her head.  
  
“So I guess the real question is,” she said, straining to hand the box to Sansa, “How are _you_?”  
  
Sansa replied with a guilty smile. Meanwhile, Aerys found something interesting in a corner of the shed.  
  
“ _Woo-woo, woo_ _oo_ ,” the dog announced with a singing bark, looking back and forth between Brienne and whatever he saw – or thought he saw - in the corner.  
  
“What are you _wooing_ about?” Brienne asked as she followed the dog’s gaze. “Hunting ghosts again, are we? It’s probably just a dead mouse or a hedgehog. Leave it alone, Aerys.” The big dog expressed his disappointment by letting out a long, low whine and then miserably slumping down onto the floor.  
  
When they finished loading everything into her car – and it was a lot more than she remembered – Brienne turned to her friend. “Thanks again for looking after him. And for letting me use the shed.”  
  
“Don’t even mention it,” Sansa replied, hugging her with a sad smile on her face.  
  
“Aerys, come say goodbye to Sansa.” The dog trotted around the car and sat down in front of her. Sansa took his big, fluffy face in her hands and rubbed behind his ears. With his half-open eyes it almost seemed as though he was smiling.  
  
“I’m going to miss you, you big Floof. You hairy, smelly yeti. You little-”  
  
“All right, that’s quite enough,” Brienne interrupted. “Get in the car.” The dog obediently turned around and walked back to the car to jump in the passenger seat.  
  
“I wish you all the best, Bri. And I do hope that you’ll be happy there. Happier than you were here.” Brienne frowned at her.  
  
“I was _happy_.” It sounded almost like a question. Sansa raised her eyebrows.  
  
“ _Hm_. Well, drive safe and text me when you get there.” She gave her another hug and then turned away before Brienne could see the tears in her eyes.  
  
Brienne got in her car and fastened her seatbelt. There was so much stuff in the back, that she couldn’t even see over the boxes when she looked into the rear-view mirror. Instead, she rolled down the window and put the car in reverse to turn it around. When she was ready to leave, she stuck her head out the window to look back at her friend and wave at her. Sansa stood leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. She could barely bring herself to lift her arm.  
  
Brienne sighed and shook her head. "She's crying, isn't she?" she asked as she sat back down. "I'm sure she's crying." Brienne connected her phone to the car stereo and turned to Aerys. The way he sat in the passenger seat, he was almost as tall as she was.  
  
"So, what do you say? Are you ready for a new adventure?” Aerys stared out the window as if he didn’t even hear her. “ _Hello_? I’m talking to you.” He then slowly turned his large bear-like head around and sniffed the air before he stuck out his tongue and looked at Brienne.  
  
“Gods, for a canine with your intelligence, you can look really, _incredibly_ slow, did you know that?” He returned the compliment by pressing his cold nose against her cheek before giving it a firm lick. Brienne pushed him away, laughing, and wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her cardigan.  
  
“And you could really use a breath mint,” she added. “Now buckle up, big man, let’s start our new life.”


	2. Hear me roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne catches up with an old friend, finally meets her new neighbour and finds new ways to embarrass herself.

Weeks of being rudely awoken by the neighbours practically rebuilding their entire house were endlessly dragging on. Even though the construction workers seemed to be working day and night, Brienne hadn’t as much as caught a glimpse of the actual owners and she was starting to think that they weren’t even in the country. Whoever they were, they certainly knew what they were doing and had no problem paying for it. They had all but doubled the size of the ground floor by expanding the back of the house, they’d redone the entire roof and stripped the house to completely change its exterior. The old, greenish house was barely recognisable behind this downright Victorian palace that they had created. It made Brienne’s house look like a joke. And a sad one at that.  
  
The house seemed brighter with the added windows, more elegant under this new dark roof and the walls seemed even taller than before, now that they were white. She could only imagine how absolutely divine it would look once everything was finished. Brienne thought it was equally beautiful and sickening.  
  
As she came back from walking Aerys one day, she noticed a black car with tinted windows in her neighbour’s driveway. She lowered her pace to observe how a young man got out of the car. He wore grey trousers and a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was wavy and golden and hung lazily over the edges of his sunglasses. Maybe it was the car, or the mansion behind it, but Brienne decided that, of all things, he looked mostly, well… _expensive_. He was on the phone and his booming laughter came stumbling across the street to hit her right in the face.  
  
The man grabbed his grey jacket from the back seat of the car and before he slammed the door shut, he seemed to look straight at her. Almost as if she had called his name. Right at that moment, Aerys decided to sniff everything there was to sniff about a tree they had just passed, and Brienne almost tripped over her own feet when he pulled on the lead. She jolted backwards and glanced over to the stranger, trying to determine just _how_ embarrassed she should feel. Although he was too far away to be sure, Brienne thought he smiled.  
  
“What is he doing?” she whispered to no one in particular. He just _stood_ there, holding his phone to his ear, looking in her direction. Brienne turned around to see if he could be looking at someone else, but there was no one there. Not even old mister Pycell, who had a way of randomly, magically and terrifyingly appearing out of nowhere. Trying to make a good impression, or at least, trying to salvage what little there was left of a terrible one, she raised a hand. Was she made of wood? It must have looked ridiculous and not at all like a welcoming, neighbourly greeting, because the man turned on his heel and disappeared behind one of the trucks in the driveway.  
  
Brienne looked back at Aerys, who stood aimlessly looking around with his nose high up in the air.  
  
“Well,” she said with a deep breath. “I’d say that went well.” The dog shook out his fluffy coat and looked at her. Brienne returned his gaze with a frown. “Rude,” she said, before she crossed the street and walked up the half-broken stairs.  
  
That evening was the first time she noticed the lights were on inside the palace. It seemed that her neighbour had finally moved in, although she had not seen him carry a single box or bag of _anything_. The only things he seemed to carry around were his good looks and this, this _air_ of arrogance that was stinking up the entire street. When she went to close the curtains of her art room upstairs, she met him through the window as he was about to do the same. He looked at her and she looked at him and then he disappeared again. He didn’t wave, he didn’t smile - he simply looked at her until he didn’t.  
  
  
A few days of rain came and went. Brienne had already done some bits and pieces around the house when Margaery came over on Saturday. She was certain even partially deaf Pycell could hear her scream as she – quite literally – jumped into Brienne’s arms. Had they been born as different animals than humans, Margaery would have certainly been an exotic bird. She was light as a feather, petite, and quick yet elegant. She was also loud, but in the best possible way, and quite stunning with her golden complexion and long, luscious hair that could only be described as _glossy_.  
  
She was all the things Brienne was not. Brienne was more... _square_. Tall, steady, strong— _vast_. She was fully aware that when they were together, she merely served as a spotlight for Margaery’s beauty to blind those around her, and yet Margaery never failed to make her feel anything less than extraordinary.  
  
It was still early, but they decided not to waste any time and straight away started painting the kitchen while Margaery tirelessly jabbered on about her troublesome love life. After the kitchen, they moved to the old sitting room, where the door to the garden was open and Aerys lay in the doorway, enjoying the smell of the rain and the cheerful twittering of birds.  
  
Brienne wanted to bring the outside in and swiftly transformed the place from a dusty, mouldy old room to an otherworldly oasis of peace. She had bought a second hand beautiful, old, handwoven rug off the internet and Margaery was amazed at how Brienne proved to her that a little goes a long way.  
  
The sun crept and crawled from tree to tree until Margaery dropped her paint roller on a pile of crumpled up newspapers and wiped her dirty hands on Brienne’s shirt, right on her chest. Long fingers of white paint dragged from her breasts down her stomach as if a pale monster had been trying to claw its way up her body. Margaery carefully considered her artwork for a moment and then graced it with an approving smile.  
  
“Ah, yes,” she said in a mystical voice, “I see your talent is rubbing off on me, _Stretch_.” She snatched the paintbrush from Brienne’s hand and waved and flicked it like it was a magic wand, but then quickly put it down and pulled Brienne to her feet.  
  
“Let’s go. I’m starving!”  
  
Suddenly Brienne became aware of how sore and tired her arms and shoulders were and how her belly was impatiently begging for food. She was about to run upstairs to change, when she found that Margaery was already at the door.  
  
“What are you doing? Come on!” Brienne looked back and forth between the stairs and her friend.  
  
“Shouldn’t we change our clothes first? Wear something less… distracting?”  
  
Margaery frowned at her. “What for? We’re only going to the shops, not a beauty pageant. Who could we possibly bump into that we’d want to impress?” Brienne nodded, grabbed her hoodie from the coat stand and followed her friend outside.

She hadn’t as much locked the door behind her, or Margaery started playing a song on her phone, trotting down the questionably stable stairs and making pirouette after pirouette on her way to the car.  
  
“Remember this one? Oh, what fun we had!” She waved her arms above her head and danced as though she was instantly transported back in time. Brienne smiled at the memory. They used to dance to this song like the world was their stage but no one was watching. Or at least, that’s how Margaery danced. She always lost herself in the music and performing and wouldn’t even notice that Brienne’s skills reached only as far as an off-beat bop of the head and a sad excuse for a side step.  
  
Today was no different. They were back in Margaery’s old room, where she would take Brienne by the hands and spin her around until the posters that covered her walls all blurred together and the handsome young men and women looked like a toddler’s finger painting gone wrong. Faces smeared out until they were just pink and brown blobs and smudges on different backgrounds. Those days seemed so far away now. Brienne wondered when they had so suddenly grown up.  
  
When the bridge of the song came on, Margaery performed a rather majestic improvisation after which she pointed at Brienne, who rolled her eyes and reluctantly resorted to some hard-to-fuck-up ‘80s moves. She’d duck behind the car and every time her head reappeared over the roof of the car, she made a face.  
  
Margaery was having the time of her life, cheering her on and dancing around and around, until, quite suddenly, she came to a halt. Her eyes darted back and forth between Brienne and something behind her. For a second Brienne stood frozen in place, but then she whirled around to find her new, mysterious neighbour a scant 3 meters away from her. He stood on the other side of the white – and so new it almost sparkled, thank you – picket fence that separated their properties and looked at her. He was all gold and glittery, or maybe it only seemed that way.  
  
“Oh,” Brienne panted upon seeing him. Her eyes had barely registered his handsome physique before her face turned a dark shade of red. “Hello.”  
  
He didn’t just look at her. He examined her from head to toe with the utmost precision and at an excruciatingly slow speed. Even through his sunglasses it felt like his eyes burned right through her skin, infiltrating her very soul. Finally he lowered his sunglasses and lifted his eyes and all the world had suddenly evaporated. Never had she seen eyes greener than his.  
  
“Hi,” he replied and, glancing over Brienne’s shoulder to Margaery, he added, “Good day.”  
  
Brienne didn’t look around but heard her friend say, “Good day to you,” in a way that made her want to roll her eyes so hard it would make her eyeballs hurt.  
  
“I’m sorry to interrupt your… _performance_.” There was a strange hint of amusement in his voice. He sounded almost disdainful.  
  
“Oh no,” Brienne quickly said, “It wasn’t-, we weren’t. I mean, you didn’t...” She signed at the mess she was creating. The misery that came out of her mouth was spreading rapidly like every syllable was another domino tile tipping over. All she could do now, was damage control. “You didn’t interrupt. You’re really fine.” _Oh come on!_ The speed at which her cheeks flushed was even higher than that of her heart racing in her chest.  
  
“I mean, _you’re_ not fine, or, well – I’m not saying you’re _not_ fine, just that _it_ … is fine. Everything… is… completely fine... As you can see.” _Gods_. _Why does this_ always _happen?_ Although his mouth remained perfectly still, Brienne felt like he was smiling at her. Then his eyes dropped down to her chest and he cocked one eyebrow.  
  
It took a moment for Brienne to realise that he wasn’t necessarily admiring her less-than-mediocre bosom, but rather staring at the two white hands pressed down firmly over her breasts. She looked down and pulled on her shirt, realising the hands looked rather… _dynamic_ , if you will. Almost as though they were moving. Brienne quickly pulled her hoodie back up over her shoulder and zipped it up, to which the man tore his eyes away from her chest.  
  
“Right. Well, I was on my way out and saw you um… _dancing_ , and thought I’d introduce myself, since we haven’t actually met yet. Not really, I mean.” _Such great sense of timing. Truly impressive. Quite fabulous. Absolutely wonder-_  
  
“Oh, right. Okay... Hello.” Behind her, Margaery snorted and tried to muffle her epicaricacy with a fake cough. “I’m Brienne. I live um-” she pointed up the broken stairs to the old blue house - “there. Obviously.”  
  
“Obviously,” the man agreed as he followed her gaze, observing the house as though it was the first time he laid eyes on it. Maybe it was. Brienne wouldn’t be surprised if he only had eyes for the things that belonged to him. Besides, it took seeing her three times before he could find it in his heart to come and say hi. When his eyes wandered back to her, he shut her mind right up.  
  
“Hi Brienne.” The pause between these words and the next was way too long for comfort. “Jaime Lannister.” He stepped forward and held his hand out to her. For some unknown reason, Brienne hesitated for a moment, but when Margaery cleared her throat it was if she huffed and puffed and magically blew her forwards to shake his hand. She hadn’t realised how tall he was, before. He must have been almost as tall as she was.  
  
Jaime’s head remained still but his eyes turned to Margaery and he asked, “And who might this be?” Margaery casually held up a hand and said her name.  
  
Jaime nodded. “Quite a pleasure it is, to meet you,” he said, his eyes still fixated on Margaery. _Gods, men are so predictabl_ e. Brienne had to fight the urge to gag. Then he seemed to suddenly become aware of her presence and added, “Both of you, of course.”  
  
“Of course,” Brienne repeated, trying not to sound like a bitter old hag, but a completely indifferent pleased-to-be-single lady. Woman. _Person_. Whatever.  
  
The awkwardness was nearly unbearable. He must have felt the same, because he took a step back and said, “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. You girls have fun.”  
  
“You too,” Brienne replied as he was about to turn around, and the hint of a frown flashed over his face as Brienne cursed herself.  
  
“Um, thank you,” he said after taking her in for a moment, visibly assessing her sanity. Then he nodded politely and turned around to get to his car.  
  
  
“Well, well,” Margaery said as they climbed in the car. “ _That_ was interesting.”  
  
Brienne growled miserably. “I thought you said we wouldn’t bump into anyone.”  
  
Margaery shrugged innocently and looked back over her shoulder at the house. “How was I supposed to know you live next door to Hottie McSexy over there. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”  
  
“Tell you what? There is nothing to tell you. And please don’t call him that.”  
  
“No Hottie McSexy? Such a shame. All right then, what about... Hunky Handsomeville?”  
  
“Um, _no_.”  
  
“Stud Charmingson?”  
  
“Double no.”  
  
“Cutie McGorgeous?”  
  
“Please stop.”  
  
“What did he say his last name was? Lemmings?”  
  
“I don’t recall.” Margaery gave her a slap on the shoulder and then started prodding Brienne’s arm like a child.  
  
“Liar! Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell-”  
  
“All right! Jesus, I’m driving! _Ugh_... I believe it’s Lannister.”  
  
“Riiight,” Margaery said, relenting. “Lannister… _Lannister_.”  
  
“Oh gods no,” Brienne quietly prayed.  
  
“Oh, I’ve got it! What about: _The Lion of Lannister_?!” Brienne could not fight the urge to take her eyes off the road and look at her friend in disbelief. Her wide eyes were hopeful and proud and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Brienne made a painful face.

“ _What_?! Honestly, woman, where do you come up with these things?” Margaery tapped two fingers against her temple.  
  
“It’s all up here,” she said. “This is where the magic happens.”  
  
Brienne huffed sceptically. “And what magic would that be?”  
  
“ _The_ magic! It’s almost as good as the real thing, you know. What? Don’t tell me you weren’t wondering what deliciousness he hides under that expensive button-down shirt!” She paused and then snorted. “Ha, button-down. Buttons- _off_ , more like!” She folded one leg under the other and carved out the shape of some perfect David, or Achilles, or Hottie McSexy from air and imagination. “ _Ugh_ wouldn’t you just want to rip off that shirt and dig your nails into his skin as you-”  
  
“Noooo, I would _not_ ,” Brienne interrupted loudly in an attempt to shut her up. Margaery shrugged and crossed her arms.  
  
“Fine. Do you think Jaime is short for James?”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes. “You’re asking me? I don’t know, _Squirt_ , maybe. I don’t know him any better than you do.”  
  
“And that is so, _so_ sad! Honestly though. I bet he’s all sorts of sexy under those expensive clothes. A thousand degrees on the scale of attractiveness.”  
  
Brienne chuckled and shook her head. “Gods, you’re such a bloody _nymph_. But I will admit I think the feeling was mutual.” Margaery raised her eyebrows at her. “What? I saw the way he looked at you with those dreamy green eyes.” Margaery scoffed.  
  
“Oh you really _are_ blind, aren’t you? He was only _playing_ with you! He’s not interested in _me_ , he was trying to get your attention.”  
  
“By hopelessly staring at _you_? Yes that makes perfect sense. He was close to salivating, I’m sure.” She shook her head and frowned. It was kind of her to try and make her feel better but they both knew it was a lie. That was simply not how the world worked and quite frankly, after spending this much time in said world, Brienne was okay with that. “Now, can we talk about something else, please?”  
  
Margaery sighed and slouched down in her seat. “Gods, you’re dull. Remind me why we're friend again? Honestly, Stretch, why don’t you allow yourself to move on from that prick?”  
  
Brienne shook her head. “He’s not a prick. And I _have_. I have moved on.” Margaery didn’t need to speak to share her thoughts. “Sort of. Anyway, I’m not looking for anything right now. I want to focus on my art, my career. On _me_. Besides, I’m sure he’s married or something.”  
  
“Why? Have you seen him with someone?”  
  
“Well, no, but-”  
  
“Ha! See?! Maybe he just came out of a relationship, just like you. Maybe he’s _saaaad_ and _looonely_ , longing for some _coooompany_ … Someone to hold him through the night, or to simply have a good fu-”  
  
“Yes, all right! I get your point. But I’m not interested, so he’s all yours if you want him.”  
  
“Lies! Nonsense! Everyone is interested. _Pervy Pycell_ is interested. _I_ am interested. _You_ are interested. We all are! You said it yourself… he is – what did you call him? Oh, right – _really_ _fine_.” Brienne blushed remembering how she had earned her new trophy of embarrassment to add to her ever growing collection.  
  
“That was a slip of the tongue,” she objected.  
  
Margaery’s laugh was nothing but ominous. “Hehehe.. Oh I bet he’d gladly slip his tongue-”  
  
“Jesus, Margaery!” Her friend doubled over in the passenger seat, gasping for air.  
  
When she finally caught her breath she said, “Either way, he really is fine, Stretch. There’s no point denying it.”  
  
“Yes, all right. If you want to hear me say it, I’ll say it: he is very good looking. Very handsome. But I don’t even know the guy. And like I said: I’m not interested. Quite frankly, I don’t even think he’s a nice person. He seems extremely arrogant and self-absorbed if you ask me. Positively very vain. Quite full of himself too. Definitely conceited. And very-”  
  
“I thought you didn’t know the guy? Don’t judge a book by its cover! Unless… maybe, the cover is all you’re interested in. Maybe it’s all you need for a night. Without that shiny dust jacket with the golden lettering and all that.”  
  
“A shiny dust-… Are you talking about this clothes?” Margaery applauded herself – literally – for being so utterly hilarious and there she went again, laughing uncontrollably like she was having a fit. Sometimes Brienne feared she would never find her way back out.  
  
Margaery slapped a hand on Brienne’s knee and slowly dragged it up her thigh.  
  
“But what if he could… _inspire_ you?” she asked in a husky voice as she squeezed Brienne’s leg. “What if he could _wow_ you and _woo_ you like you’ve never been _wowed_ or _wooed_ before? Just for the night! You don’t have to marry him – just sleep with him! Have sex with him! Meaningless, uncomplicated, hot and steamy sex with Jaime “the Lion” Lannister. _Grrrrr_!” Margaery clawed at the air and Brienne could barely keep her eyes on the road. “I say you should do it!’ Margaery urged. “Oh I _do_ think he’s wonderful in bed, don’t you? I mean those eyes, those arms… Those _eyes_!”  
  
Brienne pulled on her seatbelt, because it suddenly felt way too tight. “I don’t really-” she started.  
  
“Do it!” Margaery interrupted enthusiastically. “Seduce him, or better yet, let _him_ seduce _you_! Let him lure you into the lion’s den and then...” She leaned over to Brienne until she was close enough for Brienne to feel her breath on her cheek. “He could be your muse,” she continued, wiggling her eyebrows in the most atrocious way possible. Brienne covered Margaery’s face with her hand and pushed her away. “Oh, paint me like one of your French girls!” she squealed.  
  
They laughed all the way to the car park and when they got out, Margaery said, “You laugh now, but it’s going to happen – mark my words. I have a sixth sense for these things. My sexy-sense. It’s like a superpower and it’s _never_ wrong.” Brienne quickly went over Margaery’s 500 ex-boyfriends (and girlfriends!) and subsequent heartbreaks and rolled her eyes.  
  
“Hmmmm-hm,” she hummed. “Of course, Squirt. Whatever you say.”


	3. No surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Sansa join their pushy forces to team up on Brienne and Jaime is in search of a solution to a nasty problem.

“Margaery…” Her voice was hoarse and dry and her mind was hazy. Brienne cleared her throat and tried again, gently touching her shoulder. “Margaery. Hey, Squirt… _Margaery_!”  
  
“ _Ow_! What’s your problem?!”  
  
“I was just wondering if you could _please_ ” - she paused to push her away - “get your elbow out of my nose.”  
  
Margaery huffed and rolled away from her. “I’m cold,” she whined. “Aerys! Here boy.”  
  
There wasn’t even enough time to brace herself for the impact of Aerys’ heavy body landing on the bed. With a smoothness that could only come from experience, he wormed his way in between them, happily wagging his tail.   
  
Margaery wrapped her arms around his enormous body and pulled him in, burying her face in his fur. “Oh Aerys,’ she muttered lovingly, “You’re a better cuddle buddy than any of the men I’ve been with.”  
  
“And _that’_ _s_ saying something,” Brienne added, spluttering against the swooshing and slapping of Aerys’ tail in her face. “But if you could please move your little exchange of oxytocin elsewhere. I can’t breathe with the two of you using up all of the oxygen _and_ the entire mattress.”  
  
Margaery stretched her arms above her head and watched Brienne step out of bed and into the tingly cold of the morning. “Did you dream about him?”  
  
As Brienne slipped into her joggers and a large and far-from-charming t-shirt, she looked over her shoulder. “About Aerys?” She was quick enough to catch the pillow that was aimed at her head.  
  
“No, not him, you big idiot. Hottie McFuckme.”   
  
Brienne threw the pillow back and motioned for Aerys get down off the bed. “I thought you named him Hottie McSexy,” she said as she closed the bedroom window.  
  
“Ah!” Margaery exclaimed, “So you _do_ listen to me! Honestly why do you always keep those windows open? I swear even my insides are completely frozen.” With her hands she thoroughly examined her own stomach and sides, pinching and squeezing her skin. “And I can’t even feel my left kidney anymore!”   
  
Margaery completely disregarded Brienne’s loud huff and continued, “So you didn’t dream about him then? Now that’s a pity, because _I_ did and gods, he was _good_. I suppose you could say that he had a rather… _big_ role, if you know what I mean.”  
  
Brienne retched, picked up Margaery’s clothes from the floor and threw them at her. “Gods you are disgusting. Now get your filthy self dressed. We’re going for a walk.”  
  
  
As much as Brienne hated to admit it, she found herself quite enjoying the gentleness of southern spring. Margaery spent the first 20 minutes of their walk complaining about her hangover and the cold morning air, but as the world around them slowly warmed up, so did her frosty mood surrender to thaw.  
  
By the time they returned it was already past noon, the sun stood high in the sky and their bellies were begging for food. After brunch they went into the front garden to fix the broken stair railing. At least, Brienne did. She wasn’t quite sure how much help Margaery would be, lying on her back in the grass, using Aery’s warm body as a headrest. Brienne _only_ had to ask three times before Margaery finally turned the music down. Every time she turned around she could see Pervy Pycell’s disapproving eyes staring at them through the window; judging them.  
  
For a little while, as Brienne decided to just replace the whole frame rather than just the one missing piece – because, you know; priorities – all seemed well with the world. Then suddenly, Margaery jumped up and went prancing down the driveway like an overconfident pony. Both Brienne and Aerys observed her rather ridiculous gait all the way to the fence where she met Jaime, who had apparently just returned from a run. The way Margaery behaved reminded Brienne of a Girl Guide on her way to accept a new badge, or going door-to-door selling biscuits. Only, Brienne knew, whatever she was selling wasn’t anything like butterscotch biscuits or chocolate chip cookies. Oh no, her intentions were far less sweet.  
  
She leaned over the white picket fence and touched his arm, giggling like a little girl, or perhaps more like a sociopath concluding their intricate and quite genius plan for world domination. Brienne wrinkled her nose but was startled by Aerys who was clearly not okay with this unfamiliar and highly suspicious bonding ritual. He ran over to them, announcing himself with a low, warning bark that seemed to say, “All right kids, that’s enough, break it up.” Brienne couldn’t help but smile. Was it just her or did he back away when Aerys approached him?  
  
It was impossible to hear them over the music coming from Margaery’s phone in the grass, but when they both turned to look at her – followed by Margaery chuckling at something he said, followed by her giving him a friendly oh-stop-it-you slap on the arm, followed by Brienne’s meal travelling right back up her oesophagus – her blood instantly started creeping up her neck. It wasn’t long before Margaery rejoined her with an odd spring in her step. Not Aerys though. He stayed behind, staring at Jaime who silently stared back at him.   
  
_Ugh, men._  
  
Brienne cleared her throat in an attempt to rid herself of the bitter taste of bile – or was it the bile-like taste of bitterness? Who knows – that had invaded her mouth, and tried to sound as indifferent as possible when she asked, “So… what was all that about?”  
  
Margaery grabbed her phone and walked up the steps to enter the house. “Nothing! Just a bit of harmless fun. Don’t be so suspicious.”  
  
If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that Margaery was making fun of her in front of her new neighbour. _No, not Margaery. She wouldn’t. Would she?_  
  
  
When they returned from the hardware store to get supplies to build a new timber frame for the stair railings, it was already dinner time. While Brienne was happily measuring and sawing and hammering and drilling, Margaery set the table in the garden. They had cleared out most of the ivy vines that had completely taken over every inch of, well, anything, and Brienne had taken a chainsaw to delicately trim the hedge and prune the trees. All right, yes, now there was a pile of branches the size of Tarth in the middle of the garden, but at least they could see the sky again. And even better, the sun was finally able to reach through the overgrowth, embrace them with warm, golden arms and shower them with light.  
  
Apparently the sun wasn’t the only to have – quite literally – gained new perspective on the two young women.  
  
Brienne had just finished one side of the new frame when Margaery approached her, offering some lemonade. There was something strange about her behaviour.   
  
“Are you all right?” Brienne asked warily as she wiped the sweat from her brow.  
  
“Perfectly fine, thank you,” Margaery replied in a high voice, fuelling Brienne’s suspicion. She touched Brienne’s cheek and gave her a strange smile. “You look tired.” Her hand trailed down to squeeze her shoulder and Brienne watched her face, trying to read it, completely lost of words. “You’re so good at this stuff,” Margaery praised.   
  
Suddenly Brienne felt something she wasn’t expecting. “What the... Margaery, is that your hand on my-”  
  
“Ssshhh, keep your voice down.”  
  
“Keep my voice down? What do you think you’re doing?”  
  
Margaery slipped out of character for just a moment and hissed, “Will you quiet down! What if he hears you?”  
  
“Who is _he_?”  
  
“Well, King Aegon the first, of course, who do you think?! I’m talking about your new neighbour, the _Lion of Lannister_.” The words alone made Brienne cringe. What was worse, was that they were accompanied by Margaery's meaningful yet disturbing wiggle of the eyebrows.   
  
Brienne was about to look behind her but Margaery swiftly spun her around and tugged at sleeve. “Don’t look now! You’ll ruin everything.”  
  
“Margaery, stop. Why don’t we just-” Margaery’s slender fingers immediately silenced Brienne as they reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Before Brienne could finish her sentence, Margaery pulled her down towards her, standing on her tiptoes to meet her halfway and…  
  
Kiss her. She _really_ kissed her! A proper kiss. Not a friendly, playful one; no hello-goodbye-and-see-you-soon kiss. No quick peck on the lips – oh no. A full-on, lengthy, lingering, _kiss_ -kiss.  
  
“What in seven hells did you do that for?” Brienne asked incredulously when Margaery drew back. Her eyes were dark and glistening as they quickly darted back and fort between Brienne and whatever was behind her.  
  
She whispered, “Because he was watching.”  
  
“Gods, Squirt, I love you and I know you mean well but this thing you’re doing is getting out of hand. You need to find yourself a hobby. Preferably one that doesn't involve me.” When she could finally turn around, there was only the ghost of a shadow disappearing through the open balcony doors.  
  
Margaery dismissed Brienne’s objections with a flick of her hair and a careless shrug. “Oh please. Stop your whining. I merely gave him want he wanted. He told me so himself.”  
  
“What, he told you that he wanted you to kiss me?” Margaery sat down at the table and poured them both a drink.   
  
“Yes. Well, no, maybe not in those exact words, but he doesn’t know _what_ he wants.”  
  
Brienne scoffed loudly. “Oh and you do? Honestly, Margaery, my life is not a soap opera!”  
  
Margaery rested her face in her hands and leaned over the table. “Isn’t it though?” Then she slammed her hands down with surprising fervour and new found resolve. “No. You’re right. I shouldn’t meddle.”  
  
Brienne crossed her arms, nodded sternly and said, “No, you really shouldn’t.”  
  
Margaery was not impressed. She shrugged her words away and took a sip from her drink. “It’s fine. You’ll thank me later.”  
  
“Right,” Brienne said. “Somehow, I doubt that.”  
  
  
When Brienne came downstairs after her shower, she heard Margaery on the phone with someone.  
  
“It was hilarious! I wish you could have been there.”  
  
The person on the other end replied, “Oh gods I wish! Are you sure that he saw the two of you?”  
  
Margaery seemed to have momentarily forgotten that drinking and talking don’t mix because in her eagerness to explain, she almost spat her words out with her wine. “Oh I’m sure all right. He was right there! I don’t know what was funnier; his face, or Brienne’s!”  
  
“It was _not_ funny!” Brienne yelled. “And hi, Sansa.” Margaery held up her phone so Sansa could wave at her friend.  
  
“Hey you!” Sansa replied. “I hear you’ve found a new lover.”  
  
“Ugh… Don’t you start with me, too.”  
  
“All right, all right. So tell me then, does Margaery really kiss as well as she thinks she does?”  
  
Brienne sat down next to her friend and shrugged. “Mehh,” she replied. “So-so,” to which Margaery punched her in the shoulder and Sansa almost chocked on her own laughter.  
  
When she finally caught her breath she said, “I hate to admit it, but she might be right, you know. Why not have a good old shag with a stranger?”  
  
“Because he’s not exactly a stranger, is he? He’s my neighbour.” Sansa and Margaery exchanged looks through the screen.  
  
“And your point…?” Sansa asked.  
  
“I think she’s just afraid of his big-”  
  
“Don’t. Even. Say it. And I’m not _scared,_ ” Brienne interrupted, pointing a warning finger at her friend, who threw her hands up, playing innocent.  
  
“Personality! I was going to say personality.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with a rebound,” Sansa tried. “He could help you forget about you-know-who.”  
  
“He has a name. And I don’t need to forget.about him. We were happy once. Until we weren’t.” The silence that followed was itchy and uncomfortable, and so she added. “Besides, no one deserves to be treated as a rebound. I don’t want to sleep with my neighbour.”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be your neighbour though, right? It could be someone else.”  
  
“Maybe,” Margaery replied before Brienne could even take a breath in, “But _Someone Else_ doesn’t have eyes that cut through your soul and hair spun of pure gold and arms that just…” She sighed dramatically. “Oh well. _Someone Else_ is just not Jaime Lannister.”  
  
Brienne shook her head. “You’re insufferable. Listen, girls, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do. But let’s just stop, okay? I want to move on, on my own terms. And jumping into bed with whomever is not my style.” Margaery pouted miserably and Sansa let out a disappointed sigh.  
  
“Fine,” they agreed.  
  
“You might not want to fuck _him_ ,” Margaery said, “Which – just to be clear – I will _never_ understand, or accept for that matter, but he _clearly_ does want to fuck you. I’m telling you.”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes and sighed. “Doesn’t matter what you tell me. It’s not happening.”  
  
\------  
  
When Jaime returned from his Monday morning run, he was unpleasantly surprised by a van in his driveway. In front of it, an unfamiliar man sat on his knees going through a toolbox.  
  
“Morning,” Jaime greeted. “Can I help you?”  
  
“Mister Lannister.” His voice was so rich with surprise that it instigated immediate suspicion within Jaime. “We’ve come to renovate the bathrooms, sir. As instructed.”  
  
Jaime looked up at the house and sighed, “What, today?” He was looking forward to having some peace and quiet for once. To be frank, he was quite over having all these people walking in and out all day every day. Besides, the bathrooms were perfectly fine as they were.

The man took out a dirty notebook with the corners all bent and creased and nervously flipped through the pages. “Uh, yes sir, this was scheduled weeks ago. I’m afraid rescheduling might pose a problem or two. Besides, I’d have no choice but to charge you an extra-”  
  
Jaime waved at him dismissively and made his way to the door, beckoning the man to follow him. “I understand,” he said, not noticing that the door wasn’t locked. “It’s fine. How long do you think this will take?”  
  
“No more than a few days, sir.”  
  
“Right,” Jaime sighed. “Well just… let me take a quick shower first.”   
  
The man made a painful face. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir. Not until we’ve finished with the plumbing. That is to say… we’ve already started.”  
  
“ _We_? When?”   
  
The man took out his phone to look at the time. “About an hour ago.”  
  
Confusion merged with the sweat on his forehead and Jaime combed his fingers through his damp hair. “An hour ago? Who let you in?”  
  
“The contractor, sir. He gave me a key. We’d been informed that you wouldn’t be present.” Of course. Right on cue, the sound of drilling through stone tiles came tumbling down the stairs and vibrating through the ceiling.  
  
 _Gods I wish they’d just drop everything and leave_ , he thought, longing for some quiet time spent in silence and solitude.  
  
“So you’re telling me I won’t be able to take a shower for who knows how long?”  
  
“It’s just a couple of days, sir. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”  
  
Jaime sat down and observed him for a moment, which clearly made the man uncomfortable. “It’s all right,” he eventually said. “Might as well get right to it. The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll be gone. Respectfully.”  
  
The man’s brow twitched but he nodded politely. “Right away, mister Lannister.”   
  
Jaime watched him leave the room and quietly wondered what he wished he could have said. Something less friendly than "right away, mister Lannister," he imagined. His head felt heavy in his hands and the drilling and smashing above his head only seemed to add more weight to it.   
  
_I have a meeting in like three hours. I can’t show up looking like this._ He turned his head to the side and slightly raised his arm. _Smelling like this_.  
  
Trying to think of a solution, he made himself some coffee and aimlessly wandered through the house. Finally he stepped out onto the front porch and looked around. The trees were basking in the warmth of the sun and gloriously blossoming.  
  
Even though he hadn’t been too thrilled about moving east from Lannisport, he now found it wasn’t too bad after all. The house was beautiful and there was a certain charm to the ancient city of King’s Landing. Something about it felt almost familiar. The street was nice enough - quiet, colourful, spacious. There was just one thing that seemed rather off about it all, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  
  
Jaime sipped his coffee as his eyes drifted over the houses and the people. _Ah yes, the people._ That’s _what’s off. They are all so… Just so_ _…_  
  
His mind was instantly silenced when his gaze settled on his new neighbour; a tall blonde, with skin as pale as silver and eyes like sapphires. Jaime leaned against the porch column and stared at her over the edge of his coffee. She was building something, surrounded by a pile of timber and all sorts of equipment that Jaime wouldn’t even be able to name. _How very fascinating_.  
  
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he snapped out of his stare and straightened his back as a brilliant idea bloomed to life inside his genius brain.  
  
  
Jaime hadn’t as much as opened the gate to her garden when he was met by the her pet polar bear. Despite his size he appeared out of nowhere and startled Jaime like an avalanche rolling down a mountain. Trying to back away and close the gate between the two of them, Jaime’s foot caught behind a ragged and utterly cruel piece of pavement and he fell backwards. He clenched his jaw in pain and rolled on to his side, the dog still spewing a cackling bark at him through the fence. He was gloating!   
  
It wasn’t long before the tall blonde with the sapphire eyes appeared.  
  
“Aerys, be quiet,” she commanded. Jaime tried to get up but his tail bone hurt like all seven hells so he turned around again and sat up on his hands and knees.  
  
“Aerys?” he asked through gritted teeth. “You named your dog after a king? A _mad_ king?” Brienne leaned over the gate and frowned at him.  
  
“I think _I_ should be the one asking questions. Let’s start with: what are you doing down there?”  
  
Jaime finally got up and wiped the dirt off his clothes, mumbling “What does it look like? I fell.”  
  
“You… Why?”  
  
 _Why? What does she mean, why?_ He turned his eyes to the dog who was now so quietly and obediently sitting next to his owner. Jaime raised an eyebrow at him and then met Brienne’s eyes. “Because your… guard _bear_ over here scared me half to death.” When she exchanged looks with the dog she smiled at him and scratched him lovingly behind his ear.  
  
“Scared?” she asked. “Of Aerys? But he’s such a good boy, isn’t he? Yes he is. He’s a good boy.”  
  
Jaime cleared his throat to disrupt her display of affection. “Right. So he’s friendly then?”  
  
Both the woman and the dog slowly turned their heads toward him.  
  
Brienne slowly looked him up and down. “Oh yes…" she said. "Most of the time."  
  
“Right,” Jaime replied. “Because he didn’t seem so friendly when I tried to get to your house.” The tall woman cocked her head to the side.  
  
“Why were you trying to get to my house anyway?”  
  
“I wanted to ask you if I could use your shower.”

“My shower? What’s wrong with your own?”  
  
Jaime pointed at the van in his driveway. “Under construction. I’m sorry, it's a strange thing to ask, I know. Especially since we don't really know each other."  
  
"No, we don't," she replied. There was something chilly in the way she said it, but after a pause she sighed and added, "But, I suppose... it's just a shower, right?"  
  
"Right," Jaime confirmed. "I'd find a different solution, but I have an important meeting in a few hours and I really can’t show up looking all...”  
  
“Disgusting?” she suggested.  
  
“I was going to say sweaty. But yes, disgusting.”  
  
“Sorry.” Her cheeks turned slightly pink and she looked down at Aerys, rubbing his neck with both hands. The silence that followed seemed to drag on forever.  
  
“So… Could I?”  
  
“Could you what?”  
  
Jaime blinked in confusion. “Eh… Shower?”  
  
“Oh!” Her cheeks went from pink to a deep shade of red. “Yes… Of course. Follow me.” The dog never took his eyes off him as they walked up to the house.  
  
“Thank you, Brienne,” Jaime said as she opened the door.  
  
When she turned around, her eyes were wide with surprise. “You remembered my name,” she said.   
  
Jaime frowned at her. “Well, yes… Is that your way of telling me you don’t remember mine?” He thought he'd smiled at her then, but she seemed so hesitant that he started to doubt himself.   
  
Then, finally, she said, “No, it’s not. I remember... It’s Jaime.”  
  
Her hand was still on the doorknob and she didn’t move. She just stood there in the doorway, looking at him. There was something in her eyes that made Jaime unsure of whether he wanted to stare at them or look away. They were completely mesmerising, enchanting him within a heartbeat. He had never seen anything more blue than her eyes and felt tempted to completely surrender to their mystery.   
  
His voice was unintentionally quiet when he asked, “Did you change your mind? Don’t you want to let me in?”  
  
She shook her head and finally pushed the door open. “No, I do,” she replied, her voice flooding with the same softness as his. “I do want to let you in.”


	4. Behind closed eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double, double toil and trouble.

Brienne opened the door to the bathroom and quickly used her feet to sweep her dirty clothes into a pile.   
  
“Sorry about that,” she said, feeling her cheeks redden as she grabbed the mess from the floor. “I wasn’t expecting visitors. In my bathroom. Or at all, really.”   
  
“Of course,” Jaime replied. She felt his eyes following her down the landing and into her room, where she stuffed the clothes in a basket. Aerys sat next to the bathroom door, his dark amber eyes focused on Jaime, unwilling or unable to let him out of his sight. They all shared a moment of awkwardness when Brienne returned, looking back and forth between each other and the dog.  
  
Eventually Brienne broke the silence by saying, “Right. Well, you know what to do. It’s no rocket science. You can use my shampoo if you want and there are clean towels over there.”   
  
Jaime nodded. “Great. Thanks again.” Well this was awkward. His hypnotising green eyes lingered on the space between them and Brienne felt like she was running on ice; slipping and sliding from left to right rather than actually moving forward. Her long limbs and endless awkwardness flying all over the place.   
  
Finally she managed to say, “Okay. I’ll just… Leave you to it. So that you can shower. Yourself. Alone, I mean.” Is it possible to strangle oneself and if so, how exactly does one go about that? She bit on her lip so hard it started bleeding. It was all she could do to stop herself from slamming her head through a wall.   
  
“I think I can manage.” Brienne was about to turn around and walk away when he added. “And if I can’t, I’ll call for help and you can assist me.”   
  
Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets in disbelief. “What?!” Jaime didn’t laugh; he merely grinned, flashes of gold shimmering through the green of his eyes like the morning sun gently caressing the canopy of leaves or playfully sweeping through blades of grass.  
  
“I was joking. I’ll be fine.”   
  
_Ha-ha. Hilarious_. A nervous chuckle escaped her lips before she turned around to go downstairs.  
  
“Would you mind taking your polar bear with you? He’s freaking me out with his obsessive staring.”   
  
Brienne shot him an offended look over her shoulder. “He’s not obsessive. He just doesn’t trust you.”  
  
“Clearly,” Jaime muttered under his breath, seemingly afraid to enter the bathroom with Aerys watching his every move. Brienne called Aerys to her and after a moment’s hesitation he slowly lifted his fluffy bum up off the ground and came trudging toward her.   
  
Even after Jaime closed the door behind him, Brienne remained at the top of the stairs for a while. The soothing sound of the shower running seemed to crawl through the crack under the door and embrace her. She simply stood there, almost as if she was waiting for something, though what it was, she could not say. Suddenly she became aware of herself again, shook her head and decided to continue fixing the broken bannister. Aerys refused to move when she called his name.   
  
“What, are you not coming? What’s the matter?” The dog looked at her, unblinking, and then turned his head back to the bathroom. Brienne rolled her eyes. “Gods what is it with you and him? Calm down. It’s not like he’s a mass murderer.” She followed his gaze to the closed door – which he’d left unlocked, by the way – and back to Aerys. “At least,” she added quietly, “I don’t think so.” The dog seemed to have a slightly different opinion on the matter, because he let out a low whine of disagreement.   
  
“Suit yourself,” Brienne said. “Stay if you must. But you’ll have to sit here by yourself, because _I-_ ” she paused dramatically - “am going downstairs.” Aerys barked at her and then traded his spot at the top of the stairs for one in front of the bathroom door. Feeling slightly insulted that the dog chose to stay with Jaime over her, Brienne’s clicked her tongue and let her mouth fall open.   
  
A few steps down the stairs she paused and stared at the door. Perhaps she lost control of her thoughts for a moment, because her hazy mind suddenly flooded with a rather disturbing image. One in which she ran back upstairs, swung the door open, stripped down and joined him in the shower, where she folded her arms around his chest from behind.   
  
Brienne quietly gasped at her own imagination. It was finally happening. Margaery had poisoned her innocent soul with these ideologies of pure nymphomania. She had been brainwashed! Trying to rid herself of the images and the smell of soap invading her nose and hypnotising her senses even more, she hurried down the stairs and out the door where she sat down. Brienne buried her face in her hands and felt how warm her cheeks were. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.   
  
_See? This i_ _s no_ _coincidence.  
_  
When she answered the phone she said, “What have you done to my brain? My innocence?” She watched Margaery hail a taxi with enviable ease. It always took Brienne ages to get one to pull over and she was not easily overlooked. Compared to Margaery, Brienne’s appearance was rather… striking.   
  
“What are you on about?” Margaery asked as she sat down and instructed the driver to take her to wherever she was going. “Have you spoken to Loverboy?” Brienne rolled her eyes at the constant nicknaming.   
  
“I have.”   
  
“Oh do tell! Has he asked you about our passionate kiss?”   
  
“No. Why would he do that?” Margaery used the camera on her phone to reapply her bright red lipstick.  
  
“No reason,” she said. “So what did you talk about then?”   
  
“Showers.” The word came out of her mouth in such a weird way, that both Margaery and Brienne looked confused for a moment. “ _My_ shower. He asked if he could use my shower, because they’re renovating his.” The shriek of excitement burst through Brienne’s phone and for a second she feared that the screen might break. It didn’t, though.   
  
_That poor taxi driver.  
_  
“And how was it?”  
  
“The shower? I don’t know. He’s inside now. In the shower I mean.”   
  
Margaery furiously shook her head. “You let him use your shower without you? Gods, Stretch, what is _wrong_ with you!” Her voice was dripping with a swirl of accusation and disappointment. “He could be naked on your bed, posing his divinity for aaaaall to see but _you_ … You still wouldn’t notice. Any sane person – man _or_ woman – would have at least considered joining him.” There was a silence and Brienne instantly knew it lasted too long. “Oh… my-”   
  
“No. No, no-no-no-”  
  
“You did!! You totally thought about it!” The image of her friend started shaking as she went through another one of her fits.   
  
“Honestly Margaery do you ever think of something other than sex?”   
  
She shrugged. “Sometimes. But never for too long.”   
  
Brienne rubbed her hand over her face. “See? This is what I mean. You’ve infected me with your filthy thoughts and now I can’t even look at him anymore.” The phone in Margaery’s hand didn’t stop her from clapping her hands like a happy seal. Brienne couldn’t help but laugh with her.  
  
“You shouldn’t worry so much, Stretch. Worry ages you. And time already does a well enough job on its own. Let’s not make it too easy. You do know I’m only teasing you right? I only want what’s best for you. Always.”   
  
“I know,” Brienne admitted. “It’s just confusing. My thoughts are confusing. I don’t want to sleep with him, but...”  
  
“But you think about it? Thank god, she is normal after all! Stop worrying about what you think. There are only two things that matter.” She held up two fingers and counted them. “One: what’s inside your heart. Two: your actions. A thought is like a gust of wind. You can feel it, use it, fight it. But it can’t hurt you or anybody else. Not unless you put it into action.”   
  
Brienne blinked against this unexpected surge of wisdom. “It doesn’t matter,” she argued, sounding more sad than she’d care to admit. “You’ve seen him. And while he looks like a fucking demigod I’m over here looking like… Well, like _m_ _e_.” She looked down at yourself.  
  
“Not this again,” Margaery objected. “You’re beautiful in every way that counts, Brienne.”  
  
“Easy for you to see,” she muttered.  
  
“Ask him to stay.”  
  
Brienne shook her head. “He can’t. He has a meeting.” Margaery growled miserably.  
  
“Boring. The least you can do is offer to let him come back tomorrow. And maybe then, if you’re not being a prude or a needlessly self-conscious idiot and you’ve had a drink or two or five, you can tear off his clothes and let him-”  
  
“There you are!” Brienne’s phone first went spinning through the air and then tumbling down the wooden steps. She clasped a hand over her mouth and quickly ran after it. When she found the screen still working, she quickly hung up and turned around to face Jaime, hoping the distance or the trees behind her would make her face seem less red.   
  
“Oops,” Jaime said with a guilty smile. “Sorry about that.”   
  
“Oh no, that wasn’t your fault. I’m just clumsy.” His eyes drifted over the newly crafted stair railing and then slowly back to her.   
  
“I can see that,” he said. “Thanks again for letting me use your shower.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“I was wondering, if it’s not too much to ask. Could I come back tomorrow?”   
  
_Oh. That was surprisingly easy._ She was glad she didn’t have to be the one to invite him. This presented her with the perfect opportunity to act like she had to think about that for a while.   
  
“Oh um,” she said slowly. “Yeah, I suppose that’s okay. Depends on what time you want to come. Over. To me. My house. To shower.” There it was again. That flicker in his eyes. Like a million golden stars bursting through an infinitely green universe. Like her embarrassment ignited a flame of gold inside of him.   
  
“Are you expecting any guests?” he asked, pulling her back into the physical world.  
  
She realised that the way she snorted before she said, “No,” made her sound really stupid. “I mean, I could. Maybe. When would you like to come? Over, I mean.”   
  
_Sweet heavens not this again._   
  
He gave her an odd smile. “Would 7 be all right? We could have a drink after, if you’d like. Get to know each other a little. If you’re free, and willing.”  
  
“I’m willing,” she said, internally kicking herself. She sighed. “I’d like that.”   
  
Jaime nodded and made his way down the steps that weren’t really wide enough for the two of them, forcing him to grab her shoulder as he slipped past her. He turned around when he got to the gate, and waved.  
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Aerys.” Aerys sat in the doorway and wiggled his nose, sniffing the air as if he tried to smell his intentions. _Rude_.  
  
When she closed the door she hurried into the living room and let herself fall face-first on the old sofa where she growled into a cushion. Finally she returned her attention to her phone that had been buzzing non-stop. Margaery was deeply offended that Brienne had hung up on her and then ignored her 7 attempts to ring her back.   
  
When Brienne said she was done talking about Jaime, Margaery surprised her by saying, “Believe it or not, but that’s not why I called.”   
  
“It isn’t?” Margaery raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows.   
  
“No. I found you an agent,” she said, to which Brienne violently rolled her eyes.  
  
“I told you I don’t _want_ an agent.”  
  
“Brienne, I’m sorry but at this rate you’ll be broke by the end of the year. You need to sell something! Unless you’d rather dust off your computer skills and get back to an office job.” Brienne dropped her head into the cushion again and grunted.   
Margaery ignored her drama and asked, “When was the last time you finished a piece?” Brienne took a breath in but Margaery cut her off before she even spoke a word. “The walls of your house don’t count.”   
  
Brienne huffed and counted back the days, the weeks the months. The realisation cast a dark shadow over her face and there was very little left of the fluttery, giddy mood she was in just minutes ago.  
  
“See? That’s what I mean.”  
  
“I just haven’t been inspired that’s all. I’m sure it will come.”   
  
“Well there is something I _know_ would inspire you. Inspire you all the way through the seven heavens and back again.” They stared at each other through the screen for a while; Margaery slowly blinking and Brienne frowning in disapproval. “I’m serious! It’s worth a try. Just sit down and close your eyes and think of him. Paint what you see. I’ll text you the agent’s number anyway. He could help you become famous!”   
  
She replied with a huff. “I don’t want to be famous. I want to make enough money to keep doing what I love and that’s all.”   
  
“We’ve been over this already. I’ll text you his information and you should check him out. I’ve got to go now. Love you!!” Brienne muttered her reply to a black screen and then tossed her phone into cushions before she dropped to the floor.   
  
She spent the entire afternoon and all of the next day staring at the ceiling. Literally. A few days before, Brienne had already taped a huge rectangle on the ceiling of her father’s old sitting room, but she couldn’t bring herself to start working on it. Her hands and her mind simply did not want to cooperate. All her ideas just felt wrong, like they had for weeks; months. And every time she thought she had decided, something told her ‘this isn’t what you want’ - and it was true. She wanted something else. If only she knew what it was.   
  
  
It was exactly 7 pm the next day when Brienne heard a knock on the door. She jumped up to hurry to the door, but didn’t want to seem as though she’d been waiting for him for two hours – which, for the record, she had – and so she paced herself and slowly walked to the door.   
  
Perhaps her acting skills were a bit rusty, because she went a little overboard with the surprised “Oh, hi!” and hoped Jaime wouldn’t cringe right back into his palace. He didn’t. He smiled, held up a bottle of wine in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other.   
  
“Hello again,” he said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.“Work first, play later?” Brienne embarrassed herself with a ridiculous nervous giggle and moved aside to let him in. “It might sound weird, but I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he admitted.   
  
She opened her mouth to say, “Me too,” but just before the words came out, Jaime added, “I think your shower is better than any of the ones I’ve used in all those fancy hotel rooms.”   
  
Brienne closed her mouth, feeling stupid yet thankful for not saying what she was about to say. “Um, thanks… I guess.” He smiled at her, clearly not realising that his compliment was rather odd, and then gestured towards the stairs.   
  
“May I?”  
  
“Knock yourself out. You know the way.” Meanwhile, Aerys let out a growl of discontent, to which Brienne replied with, “Nobody asked for your opinion, sir. Best keep it to yourself, then.” Aerys dropped his head with a gutwrenching sadness and Jaime and Brienne exchanged simple smiles before Jaime disappeared out of sight.  
  
Brienne lit a couple of candles and then blew them out again, thinking it would be too suggestive. She put red napkins on the plates and then switched them for white ones. She put Jaime’s plate opposite hers, then next to hers and eventually she moved the whole thing around so that he’d be at the head of the table and she’d be on his right.   
  
She checked the oven so many times she feared the door might come off. Why was this so stressful? After pacing back and forth another twelve times, changing little things and then changing them back again, she reached for the bottle of wine that Margaery had brought with her the other day, and poured herself a glass. She drank it all in one gulp, the sourness of the wine pulling on the muscles in her face, twisting it into an involuntary grimace. Then she poured herself another glass, and one for Jaime as well.   
  
By the time Jaime came downstairs in a cloud of shampoo and laundry detergent, she had already finished half of her second glass. His hair was still wet and he wore a white t-shirt that stuck to his skin in certain places where he hadn’t properly dried himself off. When he pulled his dark green v-neck jumper over his head, he uncovered the lower part of his stomach and the trail of dark golden hair that disappeared under the edge of his jeans.   
  
Brienne took another large gulp of wine to relax her tight throat. “Have you eaten already?” Jaime smiled at her.  
  
“I haven’t actually.”   
  
“Hungry?” Brienne pulled two dishes from the oven and showed him what she had prepared: roast beef and baked potatoes with carrots and green beans.   
  
“Starving,” Jaime replied as he sat down. Brienne imagined how awkward it would have been had he said ‘no’. Thankfully, he didn’t.   
  
As time lost all meaning, they ate and they drank and they talked for hours. Before they knew it, they had almost finished both Margaery’s and Jaime’s bottles of wine, discussing every corner of the world and all its wonders. It was strange to Brienne; they didn’t tell each other much about themselves and yet she felt like she really got to know him. Although the latter part of their conversation seemed slightly hazy.   
  
“I should probably go home,” Jaime announced after hours that seemed like minutes.   
  
Brienne rested her head in her hand and leaned over the table. “Already?”   
  
Jaime smiled. “It’s almost midnight and I have to be on my way by 6 am. I can’t show up looking like a corpse.” Maybe it was the wine, but he seemed almost sad. Brienne leaned the other way and swiftly brushed his cheek.  
  
“Nooo,” she said. “You don’t look like a corpse at all!”   
  
He looked down and just for a second, he seemed almost shy. “Thanks.”  
  
Good gods, he must have been the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. He wasn’t just charming, or pretty, or handsome. He was absolutely beautiful. Half a man and half a fucking god. Likely crafted from sunlight and stardust. One big clash, a stir in the cauldron and poof, there he was.   
  
A gift from the gods.   
  
_Poof!  
_  
“Brienne?” She shook her head and sat up straight.   
  
“Oops,” she giggled. “Sorry. What did you say?I think I had a little too much to drink.” She was too tipsy to let his stare make her feel uncomforatble and reached for the empty bottle on the table. “Sixteen percent?!” she gasped.   
  
Jaime chuckled and said, “It’s wine from Qarth. They call it the ‘happiness elixir’. Apparently the Qartheen claim to know the secret to a life free of stress.”   
  
“Huh… And what’s that?”  
  
“Wine. Gold. Sex and time. Get rich, fuck lots of people, die drunk.”   
  
Brienne snorted and replied, “Are you sure it isn’t the only way around?”   
  
Jaime frowned at her, clearly not entirely sober himself. “Get drunk, stay rich and die fucking?” They both laughed.   
  
“Sounds easy enough,” Brienne said approvingly. “Maybe we should try it.” Their eyes met and Brienne lost all sense of everything. She couldn’t think or feel or even breathe, until Jaime tore his gaze away from her, finished his drink and put a hand on her knee.   
  
“Thank you Brienne. For the shower, and dinner. I had a lovely time.”   
  
Behind Jaime’s head there were photos on the wall. In one of them, Margaery and Sansa stuck out their tongues at the camera while Brienne stood innocently smiling between them. She looked at Jaime and back at the photo.   
  
“Oh fuck it,” she said, before she flung herself forward, folded her fingers behind his head and pulled him in. Jaime almost lost his balance and steadied himself by putting one hand on the back of her chair, and the other on her face, carressing her cheek as he kissed her back. His lips parted against hers and he tasted warm and sweet. Then Brienne pushed him away and clasped a hand over her mouth.  
  
“Oh gods,” she mumbled against her hand. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t me. I don’t know what came over me. Ugh, this wine!” She shoved the glass across the table and got to her feet. Jaime licked his lips and seemed completely perplexed, only half present. “I’m so sorry,” Brienne repeated.  
  
“It’s all right, don’t worry about it.”   
  
_Don’t worry about it?  
  
_ Jaime slowly got up as well, his eyes dark with confusion and his voice quiet. “I won’t tell her if you won’t.”   
  
“What?” Brienne grabbed Jaime’s dirty clothes from a shelf in the living room and shoved it into his hands before she pushed him towards the door. Aerys was happy to escort him, just to make sure that he would really leave.  
  
“Your girlfriend. Umm… M-Monica? Margareth!” Brienne’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. The alcohol had suddenly evaporated from her veins and she felt completely sober again.   
  
“ _Margaery_?!” she yelled. In an instant, Brienne remembered her friend giggling in the driveway, and kissing her when she thought Jaime was watching. “She told you that we are together?” When they reached the door, Jaime came to a halt.  
  
“Um, yes, but it’s okay. These things happen. I’m sure she’ll understand. You’re drunk. We both are!”   
  
“Jaime!” she yelled unneccesarily loud. There was something oddly satifsying about saying his name. Loudly. “I’m not _with_ Margaery. She’s my _friend_.” He replied with a surprised look which, for some reason, seemed to anger Brienne. “Oh, I see… You thought I was gay, didn’t you?”   
  
“Well, I mean...”   
  
Brienne crossed her arms and looked him dead in the eye. “I’m not gay.”  
  
Jaime made a strange sound, something between a chuckle and a snort. “No. Clearly. My mistake.”   
  
“Yes,” she said firmly. Then she sighed. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay? Again, I’m terribly sorry.”   
  
He reached for her hand but she kept him at a distance. Aerys instantly put himself between the two, forcing Jaime backwards and down the steps. “Oh… Okay, if that’s what you want. I mean-”  
  
“It is,” she said.   
  
“I hope this doesn’t change things between us. I really enjoyed spending time with you. Getting to know you. In fact-” he huffed awkwardly and ran his fingers through his hair - “it feels like I’ve known you for years.”   
  
The raging frost inside Brienne’s chest finally calmed down and her soul started to melt again. Maybe she was overreacting just a little bit.   
  
“It’s fine, Jaime. It was just a drunken mistake.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Right. So – thank you for coming. You should go now. You have to be on your way by 6 and don’t want to look like a corpse.” She forced herself to smile until he nodded and turned around to safely walk down the steps.   
  
Brienne had to decide between driving to the nearest bridge to throw herself right off it, or put her misery to use. She went with the latter and hurried outside to the shed where she kept most of her paint supplies. Armed with paint and brushes and determination she laid down an old bed sheet in the middle of the sitting room and turned on the work light. She didn’t feel drunk at all, anymore. Like something had slapped her across the back and she had coughed up all the alcohol; sent her drunkenness out into the world where it wouldn’t do as much damage as it did inside herself.   
  
She sat down on the floor and thought of Jaime, closing her eyes with a sigh.   
  
Margaery was right. The image was right there, clear as day. She climbed on the ladder and started painting the sky. Literally. There was no need for a reference photo. All she had to do, was close her eyes, give her heart and her mind free rein and then paint what they showed her. And so she did. What she saw was golden sunlight streaming through a canopy of leaves in an enchanted forest. She saw him.  
  
\-----  
  
Jaime’s head was spinning as he climbed into bed. The mattress seemed to swallow him whole and the sheets were uncomfortably cold against the heat of his skin. He felt like he was on fire; like he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. Remembering Brienne’s embarrassed face conjured an instant smile on his face. In fact, he’d been smiling ever since he got back and now his cheeks were hurting. Jaime rubbed his hands over his face and turned on his back with a sigh.   
  
The image that appeared as soon as he closed his eyes, caused them to fly right open again. _Oh no_ , he thought as a dreadful realisation sunk into his bones.   
  
_Not good. Not. Good. At. All._   
  
His mind seemed to tell him, “You can fight me all you want, but we both know what we’ll be looking at from now on, when it’s just you and me.” There was a knot in Jaime’s stomach and no matter how many times he turned around, he couldn’t shake his thoughts, his feelings, his visions.   
  
All he could do, was surrender to what was inside his heart and hope it would not betray him. 


	5. Two's a company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne makes an unpleasant discovery. People are handing out apologies like it's nothing. Aerys is a good boy.

The next three days (and most of the nights as well) after the dinner debacle, Brienne spent painting the ceiling in the sitting room. Every joint and every muscle from her calves up to her neck were aching, but it seemed only fair to let her body suffer as much as her mind did.  
  
Though the house was quiet except for Aerys snoring on the doormat and the ticking of the antique clock, Brienne felt anything but peaceful. She slept no more than 4 hours each night and didn’t leave the house for anything other than walking Aerys. If she had known that Jaime staying for dinner would lead to this… this _chaos_ inside, she would have never let him. Because this was not part of the plan. _He_ was not part of the plan.  
  
She slumped down onto the sofa and closed her eyes with a sigh. Already, after half a day, she was tired of fighting her mind, which insisted on replaying the previous night over and over again like a song that’s stuck on repeat. Like a bug in the system.  
  
There was no escaping it. His cheeks slightly rosy from the alcohol, the kitchen light tantalisingly illuminating the side of his beautiful face. And those _eyes_. Those magical, ethereal eyes. They were all she could think of and all she could see. He was everywhere, and all things.  
  
In the afternoon on the first day, Jaime was talking to one of the neighbours in his driveway when Brienne attempted to leave the house for a walk. Naturally, he stood facing her when she closed the door behind her and their eyes met through a foggy veil of discomfort. The panic that struck across her heart was so overwhelming that she tripped over Aerys’ lead as she tried to hurry back inside.  
  
When she accidentally stepped on his foot, trying not to fall flat on her face, he sent a loud and theatrical whimper all the way up to the bloody Eyrie and back.  
  
 _Great_.  
  
Why couldn’t she have just pretended not to have seen him, as any sane person would? Why did she always have to make a fool of herself? Brienne didn’t leave the house again until it was dark outside as well as inside his house and his car was gone.  
  
On the second day, she looked up out the window to find Jaime sitting on the window sill on the first floor, reading a book. At least, that’s what it looked like. She never saw him turning the page. She hadn’t noticed him sitting down and wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, reading, or doing whatever it was that he was actually doing. Now every time she looked out the window, she couldn’t help but look up at him and although she never caught him looking, she had a strong feeling that he was watching her. As if it wasn’t bad enough already, that all she could think about were his lips on hers, his hand on her knee and how soft his hair felt. If she really concentrated, she could still smell his tingly, fresh scent combined with her own familiar shampoo. It drifted through her mind like a lazy cloud and made it even harder to forget him.  
  
On the third day, in the early afternoon, she realised that she had finished the painting. Brienne cleaned up the mess and then lay on the rug in the middle of the room, looking up. She could barely believe it. For the first time in months, she had painted something. Maybe not something she could sell, but still… She studied her work, seeing the same thing she’d been seeing with her eyes closed since the first time he smiled at her the way he had.  
  
Well… turns out Margaery was right. Damn. She almost wondered what else she could be right about. Brienne almost let her mind wander down that one-way path through the gates of No Return, into a part of her imagination that was best left unexplored. She’d almost let herself think, _what if…_  
  
Almost, but not quite. No, first, she needed Margaery to explain why in the seven hells she’d tell Jaime that they were together. Yes, answers were what she needed. Yet, when Margaery rang her a couple of times during these three days, Brienne did not answer. Honestly, part of her didn’t even want to hear it and thought that whatever she’d told him, or why - Margaery had said more than enough for now.  
  
Brienne had been friends with her ever since she moved to the mainland at 12 years old. Being new at a school full of hormonal adolescents was bad enough as it was. Add being _her_ to that equation and you’ve got yourself the perfect formula for failure. Ugh, teenagers. A bunch of rabid hyenas, more like.  
  
For a long time, Margaery was her only friend. She always stood up for her, protected her, guided her through the treacherous maze that was teenage life. Still, Brienne never felt _truly_ understood. There are just some things that beautiful, outgoing, talented, _thriving_ people will just never understand about odd looking, introverted, average freaks like herself that stumble through life blindly, with their hands tied and on one leg. They had been through a lot together and Brienne cared about Margaery very deeply, but sometimes she just wanted to… knock her teeth out. Not all of them, of course. Just one or two. Maybe three. Though her intentions were honourable for the most part, her style of execution was often far from it. Very far from it.  
  
Brienne rolled on to her stomach and folded her hands under her chin. She was almost nose to nose with Aerys, who slowly wagged his tail and tried his best to resist drawing his enormous tongue across Brienne’s face. She smiled at him and sighed, letting her head fall to the side.  
  
“What are we going to do about this mess then, huh? We can hardly stay inside forever; avoid him forever.” Aerys crawled even closed and rested his heavy head on her arm. “I don’t _want_ to avoid him forever,” she added, and Aerys lifted his head in discontent. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you still hate him? Why?!” The white dog sat up straight and let out a modest bark.  
  
Brienne mirrored his behaviour and frowned at him. “Riiiiiight,” she said slowly. “That doesn’t make much sense. Perhaps I should just go over and...-” she looked out the window, but he wasn’t there - “apologise.” Aerys got up and barked louder this time, but she wasn’t sure if he was trying to talk her out of it or cheering her on. Brienne suddenly rose with a new sense of determination.  
  
“Yes. That’s right. I’ll go over and simply reintroduce myself. We can start over. And I can even, I don’t know, invite him over for dinner! To make it up to him.” She whirled around on the spot and pointed a warning finger at Aerys. “But no wine!” she said firmly. “No more wine.” At last, she and the dog seemed to agree on something.  
  
Brienne went into the kitchen, opening and closing all the cupboards without taking anything out.  
  
“I need something to bring with me. Like a peace offering.” Aerys tilted his head in confusion. “What do people do when they apologise to someone they don’t really know but kind of… _like_?” Aerys did not move, but simply stared at her with his dark amber eyes. “Nothing from you again,” Brienne said with a sigh. She looked around the kitchen in hopes of finding a plan. “Perhaps I should ask Margaery. She’s left quite a trail of destruction over the years and a thus, a matching trail of apologies.” She paused and added, “And we always forgive her, don’t we?” Aerys wagged his tail in agreement.  
  
“Apologies, apologies,” Brienne muttered as her eyes glided over a row of her mother’s old cookbooks that hadn’t been opened in absolute years. “Ah! That’s it! We bake! Aerys, get me my apron, I’ll get the ingredients.” When the dog showed no sign of assistance, she added, “All right then. That’s fine. You just… sit there and be careful not to exhaust yourself, watching me do all the work.”  
  
Brienne was collecting her ingredients when, entirely without her permission, a ridiculously nervous sound escaped her lips.  
  
 _I don’t even know what it is exactly that I am apologising for,_ she thought. For kissing him, surely. Although, truthfully… she'd rather enjoyed their kiss. She still did. And maybe she was too drunk to tell, but at the time she thought he did too. After all, he had definitely kissed her back and _s_ _he_ had been the one to pull away. What if she hadn’t?  
  
Even though no one was watching, her cheeks instantly betrayed the flutter inside her chest. Did she really regret kissing him? Not likely. She regretted drinking too much, yes. She regretted the way she had completely overwhelmed him with her kiss and even the way she had reacted afterwards, when she kicked him out. But the kiss itself? Something as beautiful as that should never don a cloak of regret.  
  
  
Brienne stood in front of her own door for what felt like hours. She really didn’t know what to say to him. Everything she could think of would surely make her seem desperate, or stupid, or both. Eventually she took a deep breath in and forced one foot in front of the other until she had mindlessly found her way to Jaime’s doorstep, where she rang the doorbell and waited.  
  
Above her head, Jaime’s familiar laughter tumbled through the open window and took flight. When he didn’t come to the door, she rang the bell again, thinking he hadn’t heard it the first time. Someone was approaching the door, but for someone reason, it didn’t sound like Jaime. Brienne looked to her right and noticed there was a car in front of Jaime’s. One she she hadn’t seen in the driveway before.  
  
As soon as she realised he wasn’t alone, she turned around to leave, but then, of course, the door finally opened.  
  
A slender, elegant figure appeared in the doorway. Her hair was very long, wavy and blonde and her eyes were green and cat-like. An awful sense of dread settled over Brienne. To say she was stunning would be an understatement. In fact, this stranger's beauty seemed almost familiar. Could she be a family member visiting him? A cousin, a sister perhaps? They were both annoyingly beautiful with their green eyes and golden hair – though Jaime was darker in every sense. Physically, at least. His eyes, his complexion, his hair. Jaime might have seemed almost otherworldly to her, there was an earthliness to him that Brienne did not recognise in this woman. Still, it wasn’t entirely impossible. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, clinging to the last ray of a hope she didn’t even know she had.  
  
Brienne found herself at a loss for words and just stood there in her black leggings and oversized jumper, with a lazy dab of mascara on either eyelid and her hair… well, she wasn’t exactly sure what she had – or hadn’t – done with her hair. The woman tied her dressing gown (if you could call it that) of silk and lace around her petite waist and crossed her arms over her immodest chest.  
  
She was about a head-and-a-half shorter than Brienne, who was fairly certain that her mouth was slightly open as she sheepishly observed the way her hair accentuated her features like a shiny golden crown and the way her toenails perfectly matched her crimson and black dressing gown. And the car Brienne assumed was hers. The fancy and seemingly brand new convertible was the same shade of deep crimson. With the afternoon sun shining down on its metallic finish, the car sparkled like a giant ruby. As Brienne looked back at the woman's mesmerising appearance, it felt like looking into an enchanted mirror as her reflection copied her behaviour.  
  
“Hello,” the woman finally said, painfully reminding Brienne that this beauty was no part of her, but existed elsewhere in the physical world. _What_ _a shame_. “Can I help you?” Her voice was sweet, silky and melodic. Quite sickening, actually.  
  
Brienne backed away and misplaced one of her giant feet – which were, for the record, dressed in white trainers and hadn’t seen a single drop of nail polish in over a decade. The woman clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Yes. I’m fine,” Brienne replied, instantly feeling the blood creeping up her neck.  
  
The woman nodded and cleared her throat. “Are you… selling something, or…?” Brienne stared at her for a moment as if she didn’t quite understand the question. When she followed the woman’s gaze down to the container in her hands, she almost dropped it.  
  
“This? Oh no, um… I um- I live next door. Over there.”   
  
“That’s a lovely little house you’ve got,” she replied with a cutting smile. “It’s very… _authentic_.” Was that meant to be a compliment? Because it didn’t sound like one. Brienne tried to find an adequate response, but there was nothing. Her mind was completely blank. “So… Did you need anything?”  
  
“Oh not really. I was just… I came to see Jaime. To speak to him. About…” Brienne searched far and wide for something, _anything,_ but all the only thing she could think of was, “Cake.”  
  
The woman tilted her head, the hint of a frown on her smooth face. “Cake?” she repeated.  
  
“Lemon cakes.” Brienne held up the container.  
  
“Right...” She turned around and called, “Jaime, there’s someone at the door for you. It’s...” Then she turned back to Brienne and added, “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”  
  
Behind the woman with the cat-like eyes, Jaime came running down the stairs, pulling a white t-shirt over his head. He wore a grey pair of joggers and looked like he’d only just got out of bed, which, to be fair, was probably the case. Even though it was the middle of the day. As soon as she saw him, or maybe even before that, she realised what was going on. The evidence was rather overwhelming. A stone the size of a small castle dropped in her stomach and her throat went dry.  
  
“Brienne,” Jaime said in a surprised voice when he appeared in the doorway. Something in the way he said her name, seemed to catch the woman’s attention, because she slowly turned her head to look at him in a very specific way. He ignored her display of suspicion and continued, “How are you?”  
 _  
Ugh… those eyes._  
  
“Fine, thank you.”  
  
Jaime smiled and then looked down as a flash of pain or embarrassment danced across his face. “I see you’ve met Cersei.” When she felt Cersei’s cold fingers wrap around the back of her outstretched hand, a slightly alarming chill ran down her spine.  
  
Cersei then drew Jaime’s arm around her shoulder, and wrapped hers around his waist, not unlike a snake constricting its prey. There was a strange hostility to her behaviour, almost as though she was marking her territory; claiming what was already hers.  
  
“It’s so nice to have friendly neighbours,” Cersei drawled. “You never know when you might need them, right?” Both Jaime and Brienne nodded slowly, even though Brienne was overcome by the ominous feeling that by nodding, she had unknowingly agreed to a deal with the devil. A slender, blonde devil, dressed in crimson silk. Brienne almost chuckled.  
  
 _Surely she can’t be_ that _dangerous._  
  
Jaime's voice pulled her back to reality when he asked, “You wanted to talk to me about something?”  
  
“What? Oh, yes. No. Not really. I just came to give you this.” She held the lemon cakes out to him and Jaime removed the lid to look inside.  
  
“Oh wow, that smells amazing! Did you make these?” His smile was bright and kicked her in the guts. Cersei leaned over to have a look and then slightly wrinkled her nose as she looked back at Brienne.  
  
“Hm, yes… Smells like a lot of calories right there!” she said. “But I suppose that’s not of equal importance to everyone.” Brienne wasn’t sure if it was because of what she said, of how she said it, but it felt like a personal attack.  
  
“Ugh, calories,” Jaime said dismissively. “I’ll make sure to enjoy every last one of them. Would you like to come in for a drink?” Cersei’s eyes shot up at him like she couldn’t believe what he’d just said, but she remained silent.  
  
“Oh that’s quite all right. I should really get back. I just came to a-… eh… to wish you a very warm welcome in the neighbourhood.” It was difficult to focus on her words with the way Cersei kept looking back and forth between her and Jaime. Then she took the lemon cakes from him and closed the lid.  
  
“Awww that is so sweet of you,” she said. “You should definitely come over for dinner soon. So we can _really_ get to know each other.”  
  
 _Oh yes, because_ _last time_ _was such a huge success_ _. Besides, I’m not so sure if I even want to get to know you.  
_  
“Oh that’s very kind, but I-”  
  
“How about tomorrow?”  
  
“I-”  
  
“Is 7 all right for you?” Jaime gave her an apologetic smile and Brienne sighed soundlessly.  
  
“Sure. Seven is fine.”  
  
“All right then. Well, you know the way, don't you?" Jaime and Brienne exchanged slightly confused looks and then Cersei closed the door in Brienne's face.  
  
Only seconds later, the door reopened and Jaime came running after her.  
  
“Brienne, wait!” Without Cersei's intimidating presence, Brienne could finally form a coherent sentence again. If she ignored the part where he made it hard for her to breathe, it was strangely easy to talk with Jaime. Or to be mad at him. She looked over his shoulder to make sure that Cersei had gone and then punched him in the arm.  
  
“You idiot!” she hissed. “You didn’t tell me you’re married!”

“ _Ow_! We’re not!” he replied, rubbing his arm. “We’re just...” Brienne shook her head and turned around to walk away but Jaime grabbed her arm to stop her, before he quickly let go again and looked back at the house.  
  
“Brienne, please. I’m sorry, all right?”  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Huh, how ironic,” she huffed. “That’s what I came to tell you. Why didnt’ you say something?”  
  
“When should I have told you? Before or after you kissed me?”  
  
 _Pf_ _fft, low blow.  
_  
“I don’t know! We talked for hours and you never mentioned a girlfriend.”  
  
Jaime combed his fingers through his hair and Brienne fought hard not to let it distract her. “Well, you didn’t give me much of an opportunity to explain anything, did you? You were in such a hurry to kick me out.” Brienne’s memory surrounding this part of the evening was slightly hazy, but still clear enough to know he was right. “Why did you really come here?”  
  
“As I just said: to apologise. For how I behaved.” She sighed and lowered her eyes as well as her voice. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”  
  
“But you did.”  
  
His eyes were on hers, searching, clinging to something invisible, intangible. Something _i_ _mpossible_.  
  
“I-” It was little more than a sigh. “Please, don’t make this any harder. Just accept my apology. Let’s forget it ever happened and move on. No one ever has to know. It was a mistake.”  
  
He nodded slowly. “Yes, so you’ve said. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Cersei. She’s...” Brienne didn’t interrupt him. He simply didn’t finish his sentence.  
  
“It’s okay,” she replied to his unspoken words. “I understand.”  
  
“And I’m sorry that I thought you were… not into men.”  
  
Brienne shrugged. “It’s not an insult,” she said. “It’s just that it’s not true.”  
  
“I know.” There was an oddly familiar glint in his eyes.  
  
“Besides, it’s hardly your fault if Margaery told you that we were together.”  
  
“Well… She didn’t exactly tell me that. I was just... asking about you and she never really gave me anything… But then I saw you two kissing and I assumed...” Now _that_ made sense. A kiss like that would let anyone think that there is something going on between its two participants. In a quiet voice Jaime added, “But I mean... I get why she did it.”  
  
“And why is that?”  
  
His green eyes slowly wandered down to her mouth and he bit his lip. Brienne felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on her and soon she’s sink away into the depths of the earth. He never replied with words.  
  
They stared at each other in silence until the door swung open again and Cersei appeared.  
  
“It’s your brother,” she announced.  
  
Jaime quickly turned back to Brienne and said, “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Can we finish this another time?”  
  
“Actually, I don’t think-” Jaime didn’t let her finish but ran up to the house to take the phone from Cersei - “...we should."  
  
The way Cersei smiled when she slowly closed the door made Brienne shiver. Gods, something about that woman was absolutely terrifying.  
  
  
Sansa was in complete awe, hanging on Brienne’s every word as she told her what had happened.  
  
“Wow… That’s really something,” she said when Brienne finally finished her rant.  
  
She had been pacing back and forth through and was slightly out of breath when she replied, “I know! I don’t know what I should do!”  
  
“Well… what do you _want_ to do?”  
  
Brienne was now practically upside down in the laundry basket, looking for something to wear that made her less like a lumberjack and more like a reasonably feminine woman. “What?”  
  
Sansa chuckled. “What do you want from him?”  
  
Brienne appeared on the screen again to give her friend an offended look as she walked over to the bed. “I don’t _want_ anything from him,” she snapped.  
  
“Right… You just want _him_.”  
  
Brienne let the mattress take her weight and drowned in misery. “I don’t know… Maybe? No… No! It’s just a stupid fucking fantasy. It’s all your fault. You and Margaery!”  
  
“Speaking of Margaery... Have you spoken to her yet?”  
  
“No…”  
  
“Maybe you should. Let her explain things.”  
  
“I’m tired of her explanations," Brienne said dismissively. "What I _should_ do, is find a way to forget what I did. I shouldn’t have kissed him. Now it will always be awkward between us. _Damn it._ ” Brienne slammed a hand down onto mattress.  
  
“Honestly Bri, I don’t think it matters that you did. Seems to me that this thing between you two was only a matter of time. I suppose you kissing him only sped up the process.”  
  
“What _thing_? What _process_? There is no thing! And no process either. There can’t be.”  
  
Sansa smiled at her through the screen. “Well… You did say you wanted _change_...”  
  
“Yes, but not _this_ kind of change! I don’t want to be thinking about a man. _Any_ man. And definitely not _that_ one!” She pointed an angry finger at the window. “And I certainly don’t want to fall in love with someone who is already in love with someone else. Who has a life with someone else. I can’t be _that_ girl. Not when I know how much it hurts to be the on the other side.”  
  
Sansa’s smile faded. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not like you tried to break them up or something. You didn’t know!”  
  
“No, but he did,” Brienne replied wryly.  
  
Sansa raised her eyebrows in agreement. “True," she admitted. "And he let you kiss him. It’s not your fault, Brienne. It was just a mistake.”  
  
Brienne sighed, remembering – again. “A beautiful mistake. Quite awful. Positively stupid. Highly unfortunate. But absolutely beautiful.”  
  
“The worst ones always are, aren’t they?” They both remained silent for a while, until Sansa asked, “So you’re absolutely sure that this is it?”  
  
“Yes,” Brienne replied firmly. “This is it. We’ll just be neighbours and nothing more. Just two people, existing in close proximity. Three, I mean.”  
  
Sansa gave her a painful smile and said, “Well, you know what they say about twos and threes.” Brienne replied with a confused frown and Sansa said, “Two’s a company, three’s a crowd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify: Cersei and Jaime are not related in this fic. I hope that's not too weird...


	6. All that is gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne spends some time with Cersei and Jaime and it's just as awkward as she feared it would be. Aerys gives Brienne some good advice that leads to her meeting someone new. Sort of.

Even though technically it was still Spring, the weather gods had clearly missed that memo, because a good ten minutes after Brienne got out of the shower on Saturday, she found herself unsure of whether the tiny pearls on her skin were made of sweat, steam or liquid dread. She sighed into the foggy mirror and her reflection sighed back with rosy cheeks and tired eyes.   
  
Over the last few days a wide – and rather _wild_ – variety of excuses to cancel tonight’s dinner had crossed her mind. It’s surprisingly hard to find a convincing excuse when you live right next door to whatever it is you’re trying to escape from  
  
Brienne was mindlessly brushing her hair with Aerys contently snoring at her feet, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text message from Margaery, wishing her good luck. Brienne waited for the inevitable revolting joke, but it never came. The only message that followed in their group chat was from Sansa and consisted of a rather long sequence of different emojis.   
  
“Wow,” Brienne murmured, “I can’t believe it. Maybe she really _did_ listen this time. Could it be?” Aerys looked up at her for a moment, seemingly unconvinced, but he didn’t say anything because… well, because he’s a dog. And dogs don’t speak. Sometimes Brienne wished they would, but most of the time she thought him opinionated and judgmental enough as it was. At least this way, with his relative silence and agonisingly telling glances, she could tell herself he didn’t have an _actual_ opinion – it only seemed that way. Even though of course, deep down, she knew better. The dog slowly blinked his amber eyes at her and then rested his heavy head on her foot, to which Brienne wiggled her toes and said his name, trying to get his attention. Aerys did not fall for it. He sighed serenely, pretending not to notice how he was being forced to nod his head, and refused to meet her gaze.  
  
Slightly disappointed by his unwavering determination, Brienne turned her attention back to her phone and replied to her friends. Her lips curled upward into a subtle smile as she was showered with virtual hearts and kisses, and she was glad that she and Margaery had worked things out. _Again_. Being the _Queen of Extra_ , Margaery had sent her flowers, chocolates, alcohol – the whole _shebang_ , trying to apologise. And this was after Brienne had told her that she’d been forgiven – again.   
  
According to Margaery, Jaime started asking rather odd questions about Brienne in the driveway that day, which, in her world, confirmed Margaery’s suspicion that he was interested in Brienne. She felt it was her duty to try and make him jealous, which would drive him straight into Brienne’s arms. By kissing her, she had hoped to encourage him to make a move. The only thing she did not foresee was how quickly he would jump to conclusions and assume that Brienne was a lesbian. How anyone could _not_ understand a deduction as obvious as this one was beyond her, but in hindsight, even humourless Brienne thought the whole ordeal was at least somewhat funny.   
  
It was one of her less well-thought-out plans, but Brienne could not positively say that it had not worked at all. Still, she wished Margaery had stayed out of it, and then maybe he would never have noticed her. Wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he had never looked twice, if he had simply not acknowledged her existence at all. That way she could be like a ghost to him, a being from a parallel universe, and when she would pass him on the street, all he’d feel would be the air moving around him ever so slightly, and he would think she was the wind.  
  
But no. They were crammed into the same tiny universe that was their suburban street and avoiding him was simply impossible. Even ignoring him turned out to be something she was _completely_ incapable of. He was like a bloody solar eclipse. So beautiful and rare and exciting, but dangerous in its innocence. He drew her in and she could not resist turning his way, but always knew his presence would be damaging in one way or another. After all, nothing good can come from having something so beautiful being _just_ out of reach. And so, as much as she longed to see him again, to watch him from a distance, spending an evening with him and his terrifying girlfriend, Cersei, filled her with an unparalleled sense of dread.   
  
Every time Jaime appeared in her mind’s eye, she felt an unwelcome flutter in her stomach. In a matter of nanoseconds, that fluttering turned into powerful fists that wrapped around her insides and tried to wring out every drop of him, to completely undo herself of him. The more she tried not to think about him, the deeper his imprint on her soul became.   
  
  
When, a few hours later, the heavy white door to the palace opened, Brienne was met by a strong waft of vanilla. It engulfed her completely, not unlike a tsunami of scent. Cersei appeared wearing a crimson dress made of silk. _How very refreshing_ , Brienne thought as she forced her face into a polite smile.   
  
“Hello Cersei,” she greeted with a voice that seemed to belong to someone else. Someone who was neither man nor woman and standing on the other side of the universe. Cersei seemed to notice it as well, because her left eyebrow betrayed the slightest hint of a twitch when she let her in.  
  
“ _Bri_ _anna_ , come in.” Her silky, seductive and slightly suffocating voice waltzed through the house and the sickening concoction of her blinding appearance and her sweet perfume made Brienne’s eyes water.   
  
“It’s Brienne, actually,” she replied, fighting the urge to cough.   
  
The house was every bit as majestic and impressive as she had imagined. In fact, every surface was so clean and shiny it almost hurt her eyes. As Cersei led her through the entryway and into the kitchen, they passed a wall decorated with dozens of magazines, perfectly organised and evenly distributed like some museum exhibition. Before Brienne could say or ask anything else, they had reached the kitchen where they found Jaime at the breakfast bar.   
  
Their greeting was polite and dripping with awkwardness and Brienne found it hard to focus on whatever Cersei was babbling on about. She had no idea. Not a fucking clue. She could be talking about the weather, about her greatest accomplishments in life or about how she was going to kill her – Brienne would not have been able to tell. She just stared at her with glazed eyes. It was as if Cersei’s elegant movements were all in slow motion, and her voice wasn’t a voice, but a violin playing in another room. It wasn’t until Jaime said her name that she finally snapped out if it.

“Sorry, what?”   
  
Cersei looked slightly offended and repeated, “Would you like some wine?” Brienne’s cheeks reddened at the speed of light.  
  
“No thanks, I um…,” her eyes shot back and forth between her hosts, “I’m taking a break from alcohol.”   
  
Cersei narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Is that so? Well… Aren’t you just being all perfect and responsible?”   
  
The silence that followed was filled by Jaime clearing his throat and asking if Brienne wanted something else to drink. Though it seemed to surprise them both, Brienne thought the only sensible option here was coffee. She needed to be awake and alert when in the presence of Cersei. The only weapon against her limitless charm and quiet acrimony seemed to be some feigned level-headedness, but Brienne’s dulled senses were weighing her down like a heavy and counterproductive suit of armour.   
  
She did not feel safe at all –  she felt vulnerable, and slow, and weak. Brienne was one for fair fights and equal matches. She would fight fire with fire, but his was new territory for her and she realised her skin and steel were no match for Cersei’s poison. Being in Cersei’s playground had Brienne feeling extremely out of place and despite her sweet smile and kind invitation, Brienne felt most unwelcome.   
  
“I love what you’ve done with the house,” Brienne eventually said, not quite sure if she meant it or not. “You’ve really turned it into quite the palace.”  
  
“Oh thank you _so_ much. How very kind of you,” Cersei drawled.   
  
_It wasn’t_ that _kind_ , Brienne thought. _I was merely being polite_. _Does she not know the difference? Somehow I doubt that.  
  
_ Cersei leaned over the bar and her hand slithered over the white marble counter top to touch Jaime’s arm. “Jaime, darling, why don’t you show our new friend around while I finish setting the table?”  
  
Jaime looked slightly bewildered and Brienne instantly wanted to object, but that would be a stupid move. So instead, she followed Jaime through the house, making sure she stayed far enough away that their hands wouldn’t accidentally touch leaving her completely electrified or worse. It was quite the tour. Brienne could only hope she wouldn’t need to find any other room than the kitchen and the lounge because all else was a blurry maze of walls and doors and grotesque luxury.   
  
The room she was most excited about, was one on the first floor, that looked out over the rose bushes in Brienne’s garden, and beyond that, the room with the painted ceiling. Jaime’s study was large, bright and oddly shaped, with a tall window and a comfortable looking window sill. There were piles of books everywhere, paperwork sprawled out across the long desk, and camera equipment lay scattered around the room. The messiness was in stark contrast with the rest of the house but it was the only room where she felt even remotely comfortable. It’s as if Jaime read her mind.  
  
“This room is off limits to Cersei,” he explained with a smirk. “She’s slightly obsessed with having everything so clean and organised it almost hurts your eyes.”   
  
Brienne huffed. “Really. I hadn’t noticed.” He smiled over his shoulder and then beckoned her to follow him through a dark blue curtain.   
  
“I want to show you something. I saw you painting the ceiling the other day,” he said as Brienne stepped inside. When she let go of the heavy curtain, they were suddenly covered in red darkness.   
  
Brienne’s eyes were still adjusting to what she was trying to see when Jaime continued, “I barely know how to hold a paintbrush, but I’m pretty decent with an old fashioned film camera. Of course, I do some digital work as well.” Brienne’s eyes drifted over the photos that were attached to a line strung across the room. Some showed the house when it was under construction, while others were of Cersei and other people on a beach somewhere. There was something very touching and intimate about his photos.  
  
“They’re beautiful, Jaime. Honestly. You are very talented.” His green eyes seemed almost black in the red light of the darkroom and she suddenly realised that he stood awfully close to her.   
  
“I’ve never shown this to anyone before,” he said quietly. The room suddenly felt very small and very cramped and Brienne needed to get out.   
  
She backed away from him, mumbling, “Well I’m sure you haven’t had many visitors since you moved here.”   
  
As she finished her sentence, her hand found the curtain and she stepped into the blinding brightness of Jaime’s study. Instant relief washed over her and she was still walking backwards, her eyes on Jaime, when she bumped into Cersei, who had come upstairs to call them down for dinner. Brienne whirled around and Cersei raised her eyebrows at the sight of her flustered face.  
  
“Oh my, what’s going on here?” she asked in a nauseatingly high voice.   
  
Jaime ignored her tone and replied, “I was showing Brienne my work. I believe she, too, has an interest in art. Painting. Don’t you?” Brienne felt trapped between the two of them and backed away until she found herself almost inside of the parlour palm that stood in the corner.  
  
“I am. I mean; I do,” she stammered.   
  
“Ahh yes,” replied Cersei, “I’m so glad you found someone to share your little hobby with.” Again, her words were like the twist of a knife and Brienne wondered if Jaime had grown immune to their sting. She tried to read his face, but it did not give anything away. He merely gave her a bland smile and suggested they’d go downstairs.  
  
As they made their way to the dining room, they came past the decorated wall again.   
  
Cersei caught her looking and said, “That’s our baby.” Brienne almost tripped over the meaning of her words and jerked her head around to face her.   
  
“What?”   
  
Cersei grabbed Jaime’s arm, draping herself all over him with countless invisible arms like an octopus. She gestured towards the wall and then rested her head against Jaime’s shoulder.   
  
“ _Supreme Magazine_ ,” she said. Only now did Brienne realise that they were all different issues of the same magazine. Every cover looked so artistic and exclusive that Brienne hadn’t even noticed the common theme: fancy people. Fancy people on yachts, in cars, in front of mansions, wearing expensive clothes and even more expensive accessories.   
  
Her eyes glided over the shelves. “Supreme Magazine,” she repeated, “Very subtle.”   
  
Jaime had to bite back a chuckle, but Cersei was less amused. “It showcases only the best of the best,” she explained. “The most stylish, the most exclusive. I wouldn’t expect you to know it.” Her words were painless. They didn’t as much as tickle her anymore.  
  
All Brienne did was smile and say, “You’re right, I don’t know it. But I’m sure it’s very well known amongst the rich and famous.” She then turned back to the wall and added, “These covers are amazing. So professional.” Cersei seemed slightly offended by how surprised Brienne sounded, but before she could say anything, Brienne gasped. “Wait a minute! Jaime, did you take these photos?” Jaime’s sad smile drowned in Cersei’s cutting laughter.   
  
“Oh gods no!” she exclaimed. “Do you think we could afford a house like this if Jaime were a photographer? _Ha_ , no way… There’s no money in that. It’s just a hobby. Jaime is our art director and _I_ am the editor-in-chief. We built this empire ourselves.”   
  
“Right, I see.” Cersei’s eyes seemed to say ‘ _do you really?_ ’ but for once her mouth remained shut.  
  
  
The wooden table in the dining room was large enough for at least 8 people and Brienne contemplated taking the seat furthest removed from Jaime and Cersei, but ultimately decided against it. The minutes seemed to crawl past with every course, even though the food was delicious and conversation was relatively easy. To say that she was enjoying herself would be a bit of a stretch, but she almost started to relax a little when at last, Cersei reloaded the machine gun that was her mouth and started firing questions at her, rather than stories.   
  
“Enough about me,” she said with a scary little laugh, “Tell us about you. Jaime and I are absolutely _dying_ to get to know you. So… Who is Brienna?!”   
  
_Seriously_?  
  
Jaime’s smile was more apologetic than anything else, and Brienne wanted to reply with, “I don’t know, you tell me!”, but decided to ignore her mistake and answer her question with another question.   
  
“What would you like to know?” Perhaps that wasn’t the smartest move, because Cersei wiggled in her seat and leaned forward, her eyes flashing with a disturbing hunger.  
  
“ _Ooh_ , okay then. Let’s see… Well, you’re clearly not married, but I do wonder – a young woman as… _fascinating_ as yourself are _must_ have a boyfriend.” Brienne blinked against the many insults she found hidden in one sentence, giving her opponent – _what is this, a game?_ – more ammunition to riddle her with verbal bullets. “Or girlfriend, of course,” Cersei added. “I suppose that would make sense.” It was only a second, but the quick exchange of meaningful looks between Jaime and Brienne did not go unnoticed.   
  
“ _Oh_ ,” she squeaked, “What’s this? Did I miss something?”   
  
Jaime took a breath in, but Brienne beat him to it by saying, “No. I do not have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I’m single.”   
  
“I see,” Cersei replied slowly. “Well, not to worry. There are many great _single_ men out there. I’m sure you’ll find your match soon enough.”   
  
The emphasis on the word ‘single’ was slightly unsettling, but Brienne replied, “Actually, I’m perfectly fine being single.” Her eyes involuntarily found Jaime’s when she added, “For now, at least.” _What the fuck was that about?_ She didn’t even know. Perhaps Cersei’s poisonous behaviour was already rubbing off on her, or maybe Brienne wasn’t as clueless as she thought. Cersei’s eyes were on fire and her smile was nothing but ominous. She turned to Jaime and slowly ran her fingers through his hair.   
  
“Have you told her about the charity event?” she asked. When he didn’t reply, she continued, “We’re having a bit of a street party on the 27th. Everyone’s invited. There will be a bake sale, games, contests, a bouncy castle and crafty projects for the children. We’ll have a big barbecue and afterwards, of course, the grown-ups are all welcome to stay for a drink or two.” Brienne’s mouth was slightly open.   
  
_A bake sale? Bouncy castle?_ _A n_ _eighbourhood barbecue?_ In all her years on this street, she had never experienced anything of the sort. In fact, some of the neighbours didn’t even say hello to one another if they happened to be outside at the same time.   
  
“It will be a great way to get to know all these amazing people, who have given us such a warm welcome.” Brienne had to stifle a snort.   
  
“Sounds great,” she managed to say.   
  
Cersei nodded. “Oh it does, doesn’t it? I’m so excited. Jaime and I, we absolutely _love_ to entertain. And it’s all for charity, of course.”   
  
“Of course,” Brienne echoed. “That’s very noble of you.”  
  
Jaime had been so quiet that she had almost forgotten he was there, but he suddenly rose and said, “Let’s continue this in the lounge, shall we?” Now this was an opportunity and Brienne would gladly grab hold of it with both hands.  
  
“Actually,” she said, glancing at her watch without seeing the actual time, “I should probably go.”   
  
“So soon?” Jaime’s words absorbed all the oxygen in the room and everything went quiet. There was only the stinging of Cersei’s suspicious eyes as she looked from Jaime to Brienne and back.   
  
“Um.. Yes. It’s Aerys, my dog. He needs… me.”   
  
“I understand,” Cersei replied as she got to her feet. “Don’t you love the feeling of someone depending on you? Even if it is just a _dog_.” She sighed theatrically. “It’s the same with the magazine, really, although that’s on a very different scale, of course. All these people depend on the choices we make. Their jobs depend on it. Their income, their _lives_. It’s very...”   
  
_Unsettling? Sad? Terrifying?_   
  
“Empowering."   
  
_Oh_.   
  
When they got to the door, Brienne thanked them for their hospitality – with a straight face! – and the food, to which Cersei suggested they should definitely do this more often.   
  
All Brienne wanted to say was, “I’d rather swim across the Narrow Sea,” but instead she went with, “Definitely.”   
  
“Well, see you around then,” Jaime said as Brienne descended the steps towards her freedom.   
  
“Don’t forget the party on the 27th! I’ll expect something great from you, since you’re so _artsy_ and all that.” There was barely enough strength left within Brienne to smile. When the white door closed, Brienne could finally breathe again.   
  
_Ugh. F_ _ree at last._  
  
Aerys didn’t seem too surprised that she returned home alive and sort-of well. He met her in the doorway as she crouched down to hug him like a friend. When she drew back, he yawned in her face and Brienne wrinkled her nose and waved her hand.  
  
“ _Ugh_ ,” she complained. “What did I tell you about breath mints?” The dog replied with a look of innocence and Brienne pressed a kiss on his head. “Were you even the slightest bit worried about me?” she asked. His white bum went up in the air as he stretched his back. “Of course you weren’t. Useless creature.” As Brienne went over (and over, and _over_ ) the events of the evening she found herself growing restless.   
  
“Enough,” she told Aerys. “We need a distraction. Something that has nothing to do with Jaime _or_ Cersei. Something...” Her eyes wandered across the room until they settled on Margaery’s card. She then took her phone off the table and – ignoring all 23 messages from Sansa and Margaery, consisting mostly of conspiracy theories and battle plans – started scrolling through her notes, until she found what she was looking for. After a moment’s hesitation, Brienne clicked on the link that she had saved.   
  
The website that opened seemed all right with a fiery design of orange, gold and red. It was a small business, clearly, but it still made a professional impression. There was even a virtual tour through previous exhibitions and the different rooms in the building. All in all, the digital portfolio was quite impressive. Eventually Brienne clicked on the _About me_ page, where she scrolled through a couple of photos. The owner of the business was a handsome, lean man. Brienne sighed and leaned back on the sofa.   
  
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Maybe it’s too early.” Aerys then made an unsolicited declaration of impatience and pressed his nose against her leg. “What?!” Brienne asked. Aerys used his inside-voice to bark quietly and then put his head on her knee, looking up at her with hopeful eyes.   
  
“You think I should do it?” The second bark was considerably louder and more determined than the first, and Brienne smiled at him. “All right then. Let’s do it.”   
  
  
When she drove into the city centre of King’s Landing for the first time since moving back, she decided to park her car near _Dragon Gate_ and walk the rest of the way. The wind had picked up, but there was a burning dryness to it that could only come from the _Dothraki Sea_. It was hardly a relief after yesterday’s clammy, humid stickiness.   
  
Even though Brienne hadn’t been to the arts district in years, she needed no directions to find her way. She crossed _Cobbler’s Square,_ _a_ n area of craft with a small church in the middle, feeling slightly sentimental. Nothing had changed, which Brienne found equally comforting and worrisome. There was the same faded purple sign above the ancient pottery, and the woodworker’s tiny workplace _still_ looked as though it was about to collapse.   
  
There was a narrow but beautifully illuminated alleyway that led from _Cobbler’s Square_ to _The Red Keep_ , a large square with red brick pavement and narrow but very tall buildings. Even though Brienne had to turn right past the ancient weirwood tree – which, by the way, looked as if it had an actual face which was quite terrifying – she could not resist going left, first. When she reached the entrance of _The Iron Throne_ – a beautiful three-story art gallery with floor-to-ceiling paintings from all across the world, in colours that she could only dream of – she looked through the window with a sigh. From the outside it looked more like a hotel than anything else. And an expensive one, at that. Even from where she was standing, Brienne could see the red velvet rope keeping spectators at a safe distance, so that not even their breath could touch the artwork.   
  
“Maybe one day,” she whispered to herself.  
  
A few minutes later, Brienne found herself at her destination. The building itself was easily overlooked with its pale yellow walls crammed between its neighbours, like a quiet, little old man stuck between two large and exuberant dancers wearing feathers and pearls and extremely high heels.   
  
Above the door there was a large orange sign displaying a golden spear piercing a bright red sun. Brienne tightened her grip on her bag and pushed the door open. As soon as the bell announced her arrival, a girl Brienne recognised from the website emerged from a room in the back. She wore her long black hair in a braid that swayed from left to right as she walked.   
  
“Good morning,” she greeted with a pleasant smile. “How can I help you?”  
  
“Hi, I um… I have an appointment?” Brienne replied, sounding slightly nervous. “I mean, I do. That wasn’t a question. Sorry.”   
  
The girl gave her an understanding smile and looked at the computer for a moment. “Miss Tarth?” Brienne nodded. “Just a moment, please.” She disappeared through the door in the back and a minute or so later, a man walked in.   
  
“Well, well, Miss Tarth,” he said happily. “I’ve been expecting you.” Brienne wasn’t sure what that meant, but smiled politely and shook his hand. “Welcome to Sunspear Art Gallery, my name is Oberyn Martell, but I’m sure you already knew that.” His dark eyes reflected the brilliant ceiling lights and his warm smile instantly melted away her nerves. There was something almost familiar about him, but that was probably because she'd seen his photos.  
  
“I’m glad you finally decided to call me,” he said as he led her up the stairs and into his office. “Your friend told me it could be a while.” Brienne frowned, feeling more and more confused. They sat down and Brienne stared at him, a distant memory flickering in the back of her mind.   
  
He smiled at her and ran his hand through his shiny dark hair.   
  
“To be honest, I didn’t expect us to ever meet again, but, well… I’m glad we did.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't one of my best chapters but I'm afraid it's as good as its going to get *insert upside down smile emoji*. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Share them in the comments!


End file.
